i 


THE 


LIFE  AND  STUDIES 


or 


BENJAMIN    WEST,    Esq 

PRESIDENT  OF  THE  ROYAL  ACADEMY  OF 
LONDON, 

prior  to  l)fe  arribal  m  englanlr; 

COMPILED    FROM    MATERIALS   FURNISHED    BY   HIMSELF, 

BY  JOHN  GALT. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

PUBLISHED  BY  MOSES  THOMAS. 

J.  Maxwell,  Primer. 

1816. 


hJD 


PREFACE. 


The  professional  life  of  Mr.  West  constitutes  an  im- 
portant part  of  an  historical  work,  in  which  the  matter  of 
this  volume  could  only  have  been  introduced  as  an  epi- 
sode, and,  perhaps,  not  with  much  propriety  even  in 
that  form.  It  was  my  intention,  at  one  time,  to  have 
prepared  the  whole  of  his  memoirs,  separately,  for  pub- 
lication; but  a  careful  review  of  the  manuscript  con- 
vinced me,  that  the  transactions  in  which  he  has  been 
engaged,  subsequently  to  his  arrival  in  England,  are  so 
much  of  a  public  nature,  and  belong  so  immediately  to 
the  history  of  the  arts,  that  such  a  separation  could  not  be 
effected  without  essentially  impairing  the  interest  and 
unity  of  the  main  design;  and  that  the  particular  nature 
of  this  portion  of  his  memoirs  admitted  of  being  easily 
detached  and  arranged  into  a  whole,  complete  within 
itself. 

941018 


IV  PREFACE. 

I  do  not  think  that  there  can  be  two  opinions  with 
respect  to  the  utility  of  a  work  of  this  kind.  Mr.  West, 
in  relating  the  circumstances  by  which  he  was  led  to 
approximate,  without  the  aid  of  an  instructor,  to  those 
principles  and  rules  of  art,  which  it  is  the  object  of  schools 
and  academies  to  disseminate,  has  conferred  a  greater 
benefit  on  young  artists  than  he  could  possibly  have  done 
by  the  most  ingenious  and  eloquent  lectures  on  the  theor- 
ies of  his  profession;  and  it  was  necessary  that  the  nar- 
rative should  appear  in  his  own  time,  in  order  that  the 
authenticity  of  the  incidents  might  not  rest  on  the  authority 
of  any  biographer.  • 

JOHN  GALT. 

April  25,  1816. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


I.  The  birth  and  paternal  ancestry  of  Mr.  West.  II.  His  maternal 
family.  III.  His  father.  IV.  The  origin  of  the  abolition  of  slavery 
by  the  quakers.  V.  The  progress  of  the  abolition.  VI.  The  edu- 
cation of  the  negroes.  VII.  The  preaching  of  Edmund  Peckover. 
VIII.  His  admonitory  prediction  to  the  father  of  West.  IX. 
The  first  indication  of  Benjamin's  genius.  X.  State  of  society  in 
Pennsylvania.  XI.  The  Indians  give  West  the  primary  colours. 
Xn.  The  artist's  first  pencils.  XIII.  The  present  of  a  box  of  colours 
and  engravings.     XIV.  His  first  painting.         .         -  page  9 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  artist  visits  Philadelphia.  II.  His  second  picture.  III.  Williams 
the  painter  gives  him  the  works  of  Fresnoy  and  Richardson.  IV. 
Anecdote  of  the  taylor's  apprentice.  V.  The  drawings  of  the 
schoolboys.  VI.  Anecdote  relative  to  Wayne.  VII.  Anecdote 
relative  to  Mr.  Flower.  VIII.  Anecdote  relative  to  Mr.  Ross. 
IX.  Anecdote  of  Mr.  Henry.  X.  The  artist's  first  historical  picture. 
XI.  Origin  of  his  acquaintance  with  Dr.  Smith  of  Philadelphia.  XII. 
The  friendship  of  Dr.  Smith,  and  the  character  of  the  early  com- 
panions of  West.     XIII.  Anecdote  of  general  Washington.      -     Z7 


2  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

L  The  course  of  instruction  adopted  by  provost  Smith.  II.  The 
artist  led  to  the  discovery  of  the  Camera.  III.  His  father  becomes 
anxious  to  place  him  in  business.  IV.  Extraordinary  proceedings 
of  the  quakers  in  consequence.  V.  The  speech  of  Williamson  the 
preacher  in  defence  of  the  fine  arts.  VI.  Magnanimous  resolution 
of  the  quakei>8.  VII.  Reflections  on  this  singular  transaction,  page  59 


CHAPTER  IV. 

I.  Reflections  on  the  eccentricities  of  young  men  of  genius  with  respect 
to  pecuniary  matters.  II.  The  death  of  the  artist's  mother.  III. 
The  embodying  of  ihe  Pennsylvania  militia;  an  anecdote  of  general 
Wayne.  IV.  The  artist  elected  commandant  of  a  corps  of  volunteer 
hoys.  V.  The  circumstances  which  occasioned  the  search  for  the 
hones  of  Bradock's  army.  VI.  The  search.  Vil.  The  discovery  of 
the  bones  of  the  father  and  brother  of  sir  Peter  Halket.  VIII. 
The  artist  proposed  afterwards  to  paint  a  picture  of  the  discovery  of 
the  bones  of  the  Halkets.  IX.  He  commences  regularly  as  a 
painter.  X.  He  copies  a  St.  Ignatius.  XI.  He  is  induced  to  attempt 
historical  portraiture.  XII.  His  picture  of  the  trial  of  Susannah. 
XIII.  Of  the  merits  of  that  picture.  .         -         -         -  76 


CHAPTER  V. 

Motives  which  induced  him  to  visit  New  York.  II.  State  of  society 
in  New  York.  HI.  Reflections  on  the  sterility  of  American  talent. 
rV.  Considerations  on  the  circumstances  which  tend  to  produce  poet- 
ical feelings.  V.  The  causes  which  produced  the  peculiarities  in 
the  state  of  society  in  New  York.  VI.  The  accident  which  led  the 
artist  to  discover  the  method  of  colouring  candle-light  and  fire  efiects 
after  nature.  VII.  He  copies  Strange's  engraving  of  Belisarius,  by 
Salvator  Rosa.  VHI.  The  occurrence  which  hastened  his  voyage  to 
Italy,  witli  the  anecdote  of  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Kelly.  IX.  Re- 
flections on  Plutarch,  occasioned  by  reference  to  the  effect  which 
his  works  had  on  the  mind  of  West  X.  The  artist  embarks; 
occiu-rence  at  Gibraltar.  XI.  He  arrives  at  Leghorn.  fXII.  Jour- 
ney to  Rome.         ...-----  96 


CONTENTS.  3 

CHAPTER  VI. 

State  of  the  stationary  society  of  Rome.  II,  Causes  -which  rendered 
the  city  a  delightful  temporary  residence.  III.  Defects  of  the  aca- 
demical methods  of  study.  IV.  His  introduction  to  Mr.  Rohinson^ 
V.  Anecdote  of  cardinal  Albani.  VI.  The  cardinal's  method  of 
finding  resemblances,  and  curious  mistake  of  the  Italians.  VII.  The 
artist's  first  visit  to  the  works  of  art.  -         -         .         page  120 


CHAPTER  VII. 

I.  Anecdote  of  a  famous  improvisatore.  II.  West  the  subject  of  one 
of  his  finest  effusions.  HI.  Anecdote  of  cardinal  Albani.  IV.  West 
introduced  to  Mengs.  V.  Satisfactory  result  cf  West's  first  essay 
in  Rome.  VI.  Consequence  of  the  continual  excitement  which  the 
artist's  feelings  endured.  VII.  He  goes  to  Florence  for  advice: 
VIII.  He  accompanies  Mr.  Matthews  in  a  tour.  IX.  Singular  instance 
of  liberality  towards  the  artist  from  several  gentlemen  of  Phila- 
delphia. --.---  142 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

The  result  of  the  artist's  experiment  to  discover  the  methods  by 
which  Titian  produced  his  splendid  colouring.  II.  He  returns  to 
Rome.  III.  Reflections  suggested,  by  inspecting  the  Egyptian  obe- 
lisk. IV.  Considerations  of  the  author  on  the  same  subject;  and 
anecdote  of  a  Mohawk  Indian  who  became  an  actor  at  New  York. 
V.  Anecdote  of  a  Scotish  fanatic  who  arrived  in  Rome  to  convert 
the  pope.  VI.  Sequel  of  the  adventure.  VII.  The  artist  prepares 
to  visit  England.  VIII.  Having  completed  his  St.  Jerome,  after 
CoiTegio's  famous  picture,  he  is  elected  an  honorary  member  of  the 
academy  of  Parma,  and  invited  to  court.  IX.  He  proceeds  by  the 
way  of  Genoa  towards  France.  X.  Reflections  on  the  state  of  Italy. 
XI.  Adventure  on  reaching  the  French  frontiers.  XII.  State  of 
teste  in  France.  -         161 


LIFE  AND  STUDIES 


OP 


BENJAMIN  WEST, 


CHAPTER  I. 

r.  The  Birth  and  Paternal  Ancestry  of  Mr.  West.  II.  His  Maternal 
Family.  III.  His  Father.  IV.  The  Origin  of  the  Abolition  of  Sla- 
very by  the  Quakers.  V.  The  Progress  of  the  Abolition.  VI.  The 
Education  of  the  Negroes.  VII.  The  Preaching  of  Edmund  Peckorer. 
VIII.  His  Admonitory  Prediction  to  the  Father  of  West.  IX.  The 
first  Indication  of  Benjamin's  Genius.  X.  State  of  Society  in  Penn- 
sylvania. XL  The  Indians  give  West  the  Primary  Colours.  XII.  The 
Artist's  first  Pencils.  XIII.  The  Present  of  a  Box  of  Colours  and  En- 
gravings.    XIV.  His  first  Painting. 


I.  Benjamin  west,  the  subject  of  the 

following  Memoirs,  was  the  youngest  son  of 
John  West  and  Sarah  Pearson,  and  was  born 
near  Sprin.^field,  in  Chester  county,  in  the  state 
of  Pennsylvania,  on  the  1 0th  of  October,  1738. 


V-    ""        '^        ^'    -^    ^ 
The  branch  of  tlie  West  family,  to  which  he 

belongSj  has  been  traced  m  an  unbroken  series 
to  tlie  lord  DelawaiTe,  who  distinguished 
himself  in  the  great  wars  of  king  Edward 
the  tliii'd,  and  pailicularly  at  the  battle  of 
Cressy,  under  the  inmiediate  command  of 
the  black  piince.  In  the  reign  of  Richard 
the  second,  the  ancestors  of  Mr.  West  set- 
tled at  Long  Crandon  in  Buckinghamshire. 
About  the  year  1667  they  embraced  the 
•  tenets  of  the  quakers;  and  colonel  James 
West,  the  fiiend  and  companion  in  arms  of 
the  celebrated  Hampden,  Is  said  to  have  been 
the  first  proselyte  of  the  family.  In  1699 
they  emigi'ated  to  America. 

II.  Thomas  Pearson,  the  maternal  grand- 
fatlier  of  the  artist,  was  tlie  confidential  fiiend 
^  of  William  Penn,  and  the  same  person  to 
whom  that  venemble  legislator  said,  on  land- 
ing in  America,  "  Pi'0\1dence  has  brought  us 
safely  hither;  thou  hast  been  the  companion 
of  my  perils,  what  wilt  thou  that  I  should  call 


11 

this  place?"  Mr.  Pearson  replied,  that  "since 
he  had  honoured  him  so  far  as  to  desire  him 
to  give  that  part  of  the  country  a  name,  he 
would,  in  remembrance  of  his  native  city,  call 
it  Chester."  The  exact  spot  where  these  pa- 
triarchs of  the  new  world  fli'st  landed,  is  still 
pointed  out  vnth  reverence  by  the  inhabitants. 
Mr.  Pearson  built  a  house  and  formed  a  plan- 
tation in  the  neighbourhood,  which  he  called 
Springfield,  in  consequence  of  discovering  a 
large  spring  of  water  in  the  first  field  cleared 
for  cultivation;  and  it  was  near  this  place  that  • 
Benjamin  West  was  born. 

III.  When  the  West  family  emigrated.  John, 
the  father  of  Benjamin,  was  left  to  complete 
his  education  at  the  great  school  of  the  qua- 
kers  at  Uxbridge,  and  did  not  join  his  relations 
in  America  tiU  the  year  1714.  Soon  after  his 
arrival  he  married  the  mother  of  the  artist; 
and  of  the  worth  and  piety  of  his  character  we 
have  a  remarkable  proof  in  the  following 
transactions,  wliich,  perhaps,    reflect  more 


IS 

real  glory  on  his  faniUy  than  the  achieve- 
ments of  all  his  heroic  ancestors. 

IV.  As  a  part  of  the  marriage  poition  of 
Mi's.  West,  he  received  a  negro  slave,  whose 
diligence  and  fidehty  very  soon  obtained  his 
ftiU  confidence.     Being  engaged  in  trade,  he 
had  occasion  to  make  a  voyage  to  the  West  In- 
dies, and  left  tliis  young  black  to  superintend 
the  plantation  in  liis  absence.    Duiing  liis  resi- 
dence in  Barbadoes,  his  feelings  were  gi'eatly 
molested,  and  his  piinciples  shocked,  by  the 
cruelties  to  wliich  he  saw  the  negi'oes  subjec- 
ted in  that  island;  and  tlie  debasing  effects 
were  forcibly  contrasted  in  Ms  mind,  with  the 
morals  and  intelligence  of  liis  own  slave.  Con- 
versing on  tliis  subject  with  doctor  Gammon, 
who  was  then  at  the  head  of  the  community 
of  friends  m  Barbadoes,  the  doctor  convinc- 
ed him  that  it  was  contrary  to  the  laws  of 
God  and  Nature  that  any  man  should  retain 
his  feUow  creatures  m  slavery.     Tliis  convic- 
tion could  not  rest  long  inactive  in  a  character 


13 

framed  like  that  of  Mr.  West.     On  his  return 
to  America  he  gave  the  negro  his  fi'eedom,  • 
and  retained  him  as  a  hired  servant. 

V.  Not  satisfied  with  doing  good  himself, 
he  endeavoured  to  make  others  follow^  his  ex- 
ample, and  in  a  short  time  his  arguments  had 
such  an  effect  on  his  neighbours,  that  it  was 
agreed  to  discuss  publicly  the  general  ques- 
tion of  slavery.  This  was  done  accordingly; 
and,  after  debating  it  at  many  meetings,  it  was 
resolved  by  a  considerable  majority  that  it 
was  the  duty  of  Christians  to  give  freedom 
to  their  slaves.  The  result  of  tliis  discussion 
was  soon  afterwards  followed  by  a  similar 
proposal  to  the  head  meeting  of  the  quakers 
in  the  township  of  Goshen,  in  Chester  coun- 
ty; and  the  cause  of  humanity  was  again  • 
victorious.  Finally,  about  the  year  1753,  the 
same  question  was  agitated  in  the  annual 
general  assembly  at  Pliiladelphia,  when  it 
was  ultimately  established  as  one  of  the  te- 
nets of  the  quakers,  that  no  person  could  re- 


14 

maiii  a  member  of  their  community  who  held 
a  human  creature  in  slavery.  This  transaction 

•  is  perhaps  the  fu'st  example  in  the  history  of 
communities,  of  a  great  public  sacrifice  of  in- 
dividual interest,  not  originating  fi^om  consi- 
derations of  pohcy  or  the  exigencies  of  public 

^  danger,  but  purely  fi'om  moral  and  religious 
principles. 

VI.  The  benevolent  work  of  restoring  theii' 
natural  rights  to  the  unfortunate  negroes,  did 
not  rest  even  at  this  gi'eat  pecuniary  sacri- 
fice. The  society  of  fiiends  went  farther, 
and  established  schools  for  the  education  of 
their  children;  and  some  of  the  first  charac- 
ters among  themselves  volunteered  to  super- 
intend the  course  of  instruction. 

Vn.  In  the  autumn  of  i  738,  Edmund  Peck- 
over,  a  celebrated  orator  among  the  quakers, 
came  to  the  neighbourhood  of  Springfield,  and 
on  the  28th  of  September  preached  in  a  meet- 
ing-house erected  by  the  father  of  Mrs.  West 
at  the  distance  of  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 


15 

his  residence.  Mrs.  West  was  then  the  mo- 
ther of  nine  children,  and  far  advanced  in  her 
pregnancy  with  Benjamin. — Peckover  posses- 
sed the  most  essential  qualities  of  an  impres- 
sive speaker,  and  on  this  occasion  the  subject 
of  his  address  was  of  extraordinary  interest  to 
his  auditors.  He  reviewed  the  rise  and  pro- 
gress of  society  in  America,  and  with  an  en- 
thusiastic eloquence  which  partook  of  the  sub- 
limity and  vehemence  of  the  prophetic  spirit, 
he  predicted  the  future  greatness  of  the  coun- 
try. He  described  the  condition  of  the  Euro- 
pean nations,  decrepid  in  then-  institutions, 
and  corrupt  in  then-  morality,  and  contrasted 
them  with  the  young  and  flourishing  estab- 
lishments of  the  New  World.  He  held  up  to 
their  abhoiTence  the  licentious  manners  and 
atheistical  principles  of  the  court  of  France, 
where  God  was  disregarded  or  forgotten;  and, 
elevated  by  the  importance  of  his  subject,  he 
described  the  Almighty  as  mustering  his  wrath 
to  descend  on  the  nation,  and  disperse  it  as 
chaflf  in  a  whirlwind.    He  called  on  them  to. 


16 

look  towards  their  home  of  England,  and  to 
see  with  what  eager  devotion  the  inhabitants 
of  that  illustrious  country  worshiped  the  gold- 
en image  of  commerce,  and  laid  the  tribute 
of  all  their  thoughts  on  its  altars;  believing 
that  with  the  power  of  the  idol  alone,  they 
should  be  able  to  encounter  all  calamities. 
•'  The  day  and  the  hour  are,  however,  hasten- 
ing on,  when  the  image  shall  be  shaken  fi'om 
its  pedestal  by  the  tempest  of  Jehovah's  de- 
scending vengeance,  its  altars  shall  be  over- 
tm'ned,  and  the  worsliipers  terribly  convinc- 
ed that  ^vithout  the  favour  of  the  Almighty  God 
there  is  no  wisdom  m  man!  But,"  continued 
this  impassioned  orator,  "  fi'om  the  woes  and 
the  crimes  of  Europe  let  us  turn  aside  our 
eyes;  let  us  turn  from  the  worshipers  of  Com- 
merce, clinging  round  their  idols  of  gold  and 
silver,  and,  amidst  the  wrath,  tlie  storm,  and 
the  thunder,  endeavouring  to  support  them; 
let  us  not  look  at  the  land  of  blasphemies; 
for  in  the  crasMng  of  engines,  the  gusliing  of 
blood,  and  tlie  sliiieking  of  wtnesses  more  to 


be  pitied  than  the  victims,  the  activity  of  God's 
purifying  displeasure  will  be  heard;  while 
turning  our  eyes  towards  the  mountains  of 
this  new  world,  the  forests  shall  be  seen  fa- 
ding away,  cities  rising  along  the  shores,  and 
the  terrified  nations  of  Europe  flying  out  of 
the  smoke  and  burning  to  find  refiige  here." 
All  his  auditors  were  deeply  affected,  particu- 
larly Mrs.  West,  who  was  taken  with  the  pains 
of  labour  on  the  spot.  The  meeting  was  bro- 
ken up;  the  women  made  a  cirde  round  her 
as  they  carried  her  home,  and  such  was  the 
agitation  into  wliich  she  was  throwTi,  that  the 
consequences  had  nearly  proved  fatal  both  to 
the  mother  and  the  infant. 

VIIL  This  occurrence  naturally  excited 
much  attention,  and  became  the  subject  of 
general  conversation.  It  made  a  deep  impres- 
sion on  the  mind  of  Mr.  West,  who  could  not 
devest  himself  of  a  feeling  that  it  indicated 
sometliing  extraordinary  in  the  future  for- 
tunes of  his  cliild;  and  when  Peckover,  soon 


/ 


18 

aftei^ards,  on  his  leaving  that  part  of  the 
country,  paid  liun  a  farewell  \isit,  he  took  an 
opponunity  of  introducing  tlie  subject.  The 
warm  miagination  of  the  preacher  eagerly 
sjTiipatliised  ^vitli  the  feelings  of  his  Mend. 
He  took  him  by  the  hand,  and,  with  empha- 
tic solemnit}'.  said,  that  a  cliild  sent  into  the 
world  under  such  remarkable  cuxumstances 
would  prove  no  ordinaiy  man;  and  he  char- 
ged liim  to  watch  over  the  boy's  character 
with  the  utmost  degi'ee  of  paternal  solici- 
tude. It  ^^ill  appear  in  the  sequel,  that  tliis 
singulai^  admonition  was  not  lost  on  Mr. 
West. 

IX.  The  first  six  years  of  Benjamin's  life 
passed  away  in  calm  uniformity;  leaving 
only  the  placid  remembrance  of  enjoyment 
In  the  montli  of  June,  1745,  one  of  his  sis- 
ters, who  had  been  manied  some  time  be- 
fore, and  who  had  a  daughter,  came  with 
her  infant  to  spend  a  few  days  at  her  father's. 
When  the  child  was  asleep  in  the  cradle,  Mrs. 


19 

West  invited  her  daughter  to  gather  flowers 
in  the  garden,  and  committed  the  infant  to 
the  care  of  Benjamin  dming  their  absence; 
giving  him  a  fan  to  flap  away  the  flies  fi'om 
molesting  his  Uttle  charge.  After  some  time 
the  chUd  happened  to  smile  in  its  sleep,  and 
its  beauty. attracted  his  attention.  He  looked  at 
it  with  a  pleasure  which  he  had  never  before 
experienced,  and  obsemng  some  paper  on  a 
table,  together  with  pens  and  red  and  black 
ink,  he  seized  them  with  agitation  and  endea- 
voured to  delineate  a  portrait:  although  at 
this  period  he  had  never  seen  an  engraving 
or  a  picture,  and  was  only  in  the  seventh 
year  of  his  age. 

Hearing  the  approach  of  his  mother  and 
sister,  he  endeavoured  to  conceal  what  he 
had  been  doing;  but  the  old  lady  observing 
his  confusion,  inquired  what  he  was  about, 
and  requested  him  to  show  her  the  paper. 
He  obeyed,  entreating  her  not  to  be  angry. 
Mrs.  West,  after  looking  some  time  at  the 


to 

drawing  wth  evident  pleasure,  said  to  her 
daughter,  '•  1  declare  he  has  made  a  likeness  of 
little  Sally,"  and  kissed  Mm  with  much  fond- 
ness and  satisfaction.  Tliis  encouraged  him 
to  say,  that  if  it  woidd  give  her  any  pleasure, 
he  would  make  pictures  of  the  flowers  which 
she  held  in  her  hand;  for  the  instinct  of  his 
genius  was  now  awakened,  and  he  felt  that 
he  could  imitate  the  forms  of  those  things 
which  pleased  liis  sight. 

This  curious  incident  deserves  considera- 
tion in  two  points  of  view.  The  sketch  must 
have  had  some  merit,  since  the  likeness  was 
so  ob\4ous,  indicating  how  early  the  hand  of 
the  young  artst  possessed  the  power  of  re- 
presenting the  obsenations  of  his  eye.  But 
it  is  still  more  remarkable  as  the  birth  of  the 
^  fine  arts  in  the  new  world,  and  as  one  of 
tlie  few  instances  in  tlie  history  of  ai%  in 
which  the  fii-st  insph^tion  of  genius  can  be 
distinctly  ti'aced  to  a  paiticular  chxumstance. 
The  di^awing  was  shown  by  Mi^.  West  to  hei' 


husband,  who,  remembering  the  prediction  of 
Peckover,  was  delighted  with  tliis  early  indica- 
tion of  talent  in  his  son.  But  the  fact,  though 
in  itself  very  curious,  will  appear  still  more 
remarkable,  when  the  state  of  the  country  at 
that  period,  and  the  peculiar  manners  of  the 
quakers,  are  taken  into  consideration. 

X.  The  institutions  of  William  Penn  had 
been  sacredly  preserved  by  the  descendants 
of  the  first  settlers,  with  whom  the  remem- 
brance  of  the  causes  which  had  led  their  an- 
cestors to  forsake  their  native  country,  was 
cherished  like  the  traditions  of  religion,  and 
became  a  motive  to  themselves,  for  indulg-' 
ing  in  the  exercise  of  those  blameless  prin- 
ciples, which  had  been  so  obnoxious  to  the 
arrogant  spirit  of  the  old  world.  The  associ- 
ates of  the  Wests  and  the  Pearsons,  consider- 
ed  the  patriarchs  of  Pennsylvania  as  having 
been  driven  fi'om  England,  because  then'  en- 
deavours to  regulate  their  conduct  by  the 
example  of  Jesus  Christ,  moiUfted  the  tem- 


poral  pretensions  of  those  who  satisfied  them- 
selves witli  attempting  to  repeat  Ms  doc- 
tiines;  and  they  thought  that  the  asylum  m 
America  was  chosen,  to  facilitate  tlie  enjoy- 
ment of  that  affectionate  mtercom'se  which 
their  tenets  enjoined,  free  fi^om  the  military 
predilections  and  poUtical  jealousies  of  Eu- 
rope. The  effect  of  tliis  opinion  tended  to  pro- 
duce a  state  of  society  more  peaceful  and 
pleasing  than  the  world  had  ever  before  ex- 
hibited. When  the  American  poets  shall  in 
future  times  celebrate  the  golden  age  of  their 
country,  they  wiU  draw  theu'  descriptions 
from  the  authentic  history  of  Pennsylvania 
in  the  reign  of  king  George  the  second. 

From  the  first  emigi'ation  in  1681,  the  co- 
lony had  continued  to  tluive  with  a  rapidity 
unknown  to  the  other  European  settlements. 
It  was  blessed  in  the  maxims  upon  which  it 
had  been  founded  by  WilUam  Penn,  and 
richlv  exliibited  the  fruits  of  then-  beneficent 
operation.    At  the  bhth  of  Benjamui  West 


S3 

it  had  obtained  great  wealth,  and  the  popu- 
lation was  increasing  much  more  vigorously 
than  the  ordinary  re-production  of  the  hu- 
man species  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 
In  the  houses  of  the  principal  families,  the 
patricians  of  the  country,  unlimited  hospita- 
lity formed  a  pail  of  their  regular  economy. 
It  was  the  custom  among  those  who  resided 
near  the  highways,  after  supper  and  the  last 
reUgious  exercise  of  the  evening,  to  make  a 
large  fire  in  the  hall,  and  to  set  out  a  table 
with  refreshments  for  such  travellers  as  might 
have  occasion  to  pass  during  the  night;  and 
when  the  families  assembled  in  the  morn- 
ing they  seldom  found  that  their  tables  had 
been  unvisited.  This  was  particularly  the 
case  at  Springfield.  Poverty  was  never  heard 
of  in  the  land.  The  disposition  to  common  / 
charity  having  no  objects,  was  blended  with 
the  domestic  affections,  and  rendered  the 
ties  of  friendship  and  kindred  stronger  and 
dearer.  Acts  of  hberahty  were  frequently 
performed   to  an  extent  tliat  would  have 


bewared  the  munificence  of  the  old  world. 
With  all  these  deUghtful  indications  of  a  bet- 
ter  order  of  things,  society  in  Pennsylvania 
retained,  at  this  time,  many  of  those  respect- 
able prejudices  wliich  give  a  venerable  grace 
to  manners,  and  are  regarded  by  the  practi- 
cal philosopher  as  little  inferior  in  dignity 
to  the  wtues.  WilUam  Penn  was  proud  of 
his  distinguished  parentage,  and  many  of  his 
filends  traced  their  lineage  to  the  ancient 
and  noble  families  of  England.  In  their  de- 
scendants the  pride  of  ancestry  was  so  tem- 
pered with  the  meekness  of  their  reUgious 
tenets,  that  it  lent  a  kind  of  patriarchal  dig- 
nity to  their  benevolence.  In  beautiful  con- 
trast to  the  systematic  morality  of  the  new 
inhabitants,  was  the  simpUcity  of  the  Indians, 
who  mingled  safe  and  harmless  among  the 
friends;  and  in  the  annual  visits  which  they 
were  in  the  practice  of  paying  to  the  plan- 
tations, they  raised  their  huts  in  the  fields 
and  orchards  without  asking  leave,  nor  were 
thev  ever  molested.     Voltaire  has  obsei^ved. 


«5 

that  the  treaty  which  was  concluded  between 
the  Indians  and  William  Penn  was  the  first 
public  contract  which  connected  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  old  and  new  world  together, 
and,  though  not  ratified  by  oaths,  and  with- 
out invoking  the  Trinity,  is  still  the  only 
treaty  that  has  never  been  broken.  It  mayv 
be  fiirther  said,  that  Pennsylvania  is  the  first 
country  which  has  not  been  subdued  by  the 
sword,  for  the  inhabitants  were  conquered 
by  the  force  of  Christian  benevolence. 

When  the  great  founder  of  the  state  mark- 
ed out  the  site  of  Philadelphia  in  the  woods, 
he  allotted  a  piece  of  ground  for  a  public 
library.  It  was  his  opinion,  that  although 
the  labour  of  clearing  the  country  would 
long  employ  the  settlers,  hours  of  relaxa- 
tion would  still  be  requisite;  and,  with  his 
usual  sagacity,  he  judged  that  the  reading  of 
books  was  more  conducive  to  good  morals 
and  to  the  formation  of  just  sentiments,  than 
any  other  species  of  amusement.     The  dif- 


26 

ferent  counties  aftei'wards  instituted  libra- 
ries, wliichthe  to^vnships  have  also  imitated: 
where  the  population  was  insufficient  to  es- 
tablish a  large  collection  of  books,  the  neigh- 
bouring famihes  formed  themselves  into 
societies  for  procuring  the  popidar  pubUca- 
tions.  But  in  these  arrangements  for  cul- 
tivating the  powers  of  the  understanding,  no 
pro\ision  was  made,  during  tlie  reign  of 
George  the  second,  for  impro\ing  the  facul- 
ties of  taste.  The  works  of  which  the  hbra- 
ries  then  consisted,  treated  of  useful  and 
practical  subjects.  It  was  the  policy  of  the 
Quakers  to  make  mankind  wiser  and  better; 
and  they  thought  that,  as  the  passions  are 
the  springs  of  all  moral  evil  when  in  a  state 
of  excitement,  whatever  tends  to  awaken 
them  is  unfavourable  to  that  placid  tenour 
of  mind  wliich  they  \vished  to  see  diffused 
throughout  the  world.  This  notion  is  pru- 
dent, perhaps  judicious;  but  works  of  imagi- 
nation may  be  rendered  subservient  to  the 
same  pm^pose.  Every  tiling  in  Pennsylvania 


^7 

was  thus  unpropitious  to  the  fine  arts.  There 
were  no  cares  in  the  bosoms  of  indmduals 
to  require  pubUe  diversions,  nor  any  emu- 
lation in  the  expenditure  of  wealth  to  en- 
courage the  ornamental  manufactures.  In 
the  whole  Christian  world  no  spot  was  ap- 
parently so  unlikely  to  produce  a  painter  as 
Pennsylvania.  It  might,  indeed,  be  suppos- 
ed, according  to  a  popular  opinion,  that  a 
youth,  reared  among  the  concentrating 
elements  of  a  new  state,  in  the  midst  of 
boundless  forests,  tremendous  waterfalls, 
and  mountains  whose  summits  were  inac- 
cessible to  "  the  lightest  foot  and  wildest 
wing,"  was  the  most  favourable  situation  to 
imbibe  the  enthusiasm  either  of  poetry  or 
painting,  if  scenery  and  such  accidental  cir- 
cumstances are  to  be  regarded  as  every 
thing,  and  original  character  as  nothing.  But 
it  may  reasonably  be  doubted  if  ever  natural 
scenery  has  any  assignable  influence  on  the 
productions  of  genius.  The  idea  has  pro- 
bably arisen  from  the  impression  which  the 


28 

magnificence  of  nature  makes  on  persons  of 
cultivated  minds,  who  fall  into  the  mistake 
of  considering  the  elevated  emotions  arising 
in  reaUty  from  their  own  associations,  as 
being  naturally  connected  vrith  the  objects 
that  excite  them.  Of  all  the  nations  of 
Europe  the  Swiss  are  tlie  least  poetical,  and 
yet  tlie  scenery  of  no  other  country  seems 
so  well  calculated  as  that  of  Switzerland  to 
aw^aken  the  imagination;  and  Shakspeare, 
the  gi'eatest  of  all  modern  poets,  was  brought 
up  in  one  of  the  least  picturesque  districts  of 
England. 

XI.  Soon  after  tlie  occurrence  of  the  inci- 
dent wliich  has  given  rise  to  these  observa- 
tions, the  young  aitist  was  sent  to  a  school 
in  the  neighbourhood.  During  his  hours  of 
leisure  he  was  permitted  to  draw  with  pen 
and  ink;  for  it  did  not  occur  to  any  of  the 
family  to  provide  him  witli  better  materials. 
In  tlie  course  of  the  summer  a  party  of  In- 
dians came  to  pay  their    annual   visit  to 


so 

Springfield,  and  being  amused  with  the 
sketches  of  birds  and  flowers  which  Benja- 
min showed  them,  they  taught  him  to 
prepare  the  red  and  yellow  colours  with 
which  they  painted  their  ornaments.  To 
these  his  mother  added  blue,  by  giving  him 
a  piece  of  indigo,  so  that  he  was  thus  put  in 
possession  of  the  three  primary  colours. 
The  fancy  is  disposed  to  expatiate  on  this 
interesting  fact;  for  the  mythologies  of  an- 
tiquity furnish  no  allegory  more  beautiful; 
and  a  painter  who  would  embody  the  meta- 
phor of  an  artist  instructed  by  Nature,  could 
scarcely  imagine  any  thing  more  picturesque 
than  the  real  incident  of  the  Indians  instruct- 
ing West  to  prepare  the  prismatic  colours. 
The  Indians  also  taught  liim  to  be  an  expeil 
archer,  and  he  was  sometimes  in  the  practice 
of  shooting  birds  for  models,  when  he  thought 
that  their  plumage  would  look  well  in  a  pic- 
ture. 


30 

XII.  His  drawngs  at  length  attracted  the 
attention  of  the  neighbours;  and  some  of 
them  happening  to  regret  that  the  artist  had 
no  pencils,  he  inquired  what  kind  of  things 
these  were,  and  they  were  described  to  him 
as  small  brushes  made  of  camels'  hair  fast- 
ened in  a  quill.  As  there  were,  however,  no 
camels  in  America,  he  could  not  think  of 
any  substitute,  till  he  happened  to  cast  his 
eyes  on  a  black  cat,  the  favourite  of  his  fa- 
ther; when,  in  the  tapering  fur  of  her  tail, 
he  discovered  the  means  of  supplying  what 
he  wanted.  He  immediately  armed  himself 
with  his  mother's  scissors,  and,  laying  hold 
of  Grimalkin  with  all  due  caution,  and  a  pro- 
per attention  to  her  feelings,  cut  off  the  far 
at  the  end  of  her  tail,  and  with  this  made  his 
first  pencil.  But  the  tail  only  farnished  him 
with  one,  which  did  not  last  long,  and  he 
soon  stood  in  need  of  a  further  supply.  He 
then  had  recourse  to  the  animal's  back,  his 
depredations  upon  which  were  so  frequent- 
ly repeated,  that  his  fatlier  obsei-ved  the  al- 


31 

tered  appearance  of  his  favourite,  and  la- 
mented it  as  the  effect  of  disease.  The  artist, 
with  suitable  marks  of  contrition,  informed 
him  of  the  true  cause;  and  the  old  gentle- 
man was  so  much  amused  with  his  ingenui-  ^ 
ty,  that  if  he  rebuked  him,  it  was  certainly 
not  in  anger. 

Anecdotes  of  this  kind,  trifling  as  they 
may  seem,  have  an  interest  independent  of 
the  insight  they  afford  into  the  character  to 
which  they  relate.  It  will  often  appear,  upon 
a  careful  study  of  authentic  biography,  that 
the  means  of  giving  body  and  effect  to  their 
conceptions,  are  rarely  withheld  from  men 
of  genius.  If  the  circumstances  of  Fortune 
are  unfavourable,  Nature  instructs  them  to 
draw  assistance  immediately  from  herself, 
by  endowing  them  with  the  faculty  of  per- 
ceiving a  fitness  and  correspondence  in 
things  which  no  force  of  reasoning,  founded 
on  the  experience  of  others,  could  enable 
them  to  discover.  This  aptness  is,  perhaps, 


32 

the  surest  indication  of  the  possession  of  ori- 
ginal talent.  There  are  minds  of  a  high  class 
to  which  the  world,  in  the  latitude  of  its  ex- 
pressions, often  ascribes  genius,  but  which 
possess  only  a  superior  capacity  for  the  ap- 
phcation  of  other  men's  notions,  unconnect- 
ed with  any  unusual  portion  of  the  inventive 
faculty. 

XIII.  In  the  following  year  Mr.  Penning- 
ton, a  merchant  of  Philadelphia,  who  was  re- 
lated to  the  West  family,  came  to  pay  a  visit 
to  Mr.  West.  This  gentleman  was  also  a 
member  of  the  society  of  Mends,  and,  though 
strictly  attentive  to  the  peculiar  observances 
of  the  sect,  was  a  man  of  pleasant  temper 
and  indulgent  dispositions.  He  noticed  the 
drawings  of  bh  ds  and  flowers  round  the  room^ 
unusual  ornaments  in  the  house  of  a  quaker,- 
and  heard  with  surpiise  that  they  were  the 
work  of  Ms  httle  cousin.  Of  their  merit  as 
pictures  he  did  not  pretend  to  be  a  judge,  but 
he  thought  them  wonderful  productions  for 


a  boy  only  entering  on  his  eighth  year,  and 
being  told  with  what  imperfect  materials  they 
had  been  executed,  he  promised  to  send  the 
young  artist  a  box  of  paints  and  pencils  from 
the  city.  On  his  return  home  he  fulfilled 
his  engagement,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the 
box  placed  several  pieces  of  canvass  prepar- 
ed for  the  easel,  and  six  engravings  by  Grev- 
iing. 

XIV.  The  arrival  of  the  box  was  an  sera 
in  the  history  of  the  painter  and  his  art.  It 
was  received  with  feelings  of  delight,  wliich 
only  a  similar  mind  can  justly  appreciate. 
He  opened  it,  and  in  the  colours,  the  oils,  and 
the  pencils,  found  all  his  wants  supplied,  even 
beyond  his  utmost  conceptions.  But  who  can 
describe  the  surprise  with  which  he  beheld 
the  engravings;  he  who  had  never  seen  any 
picture  but  his  own  dravrtngs,  nor  knew  that 
such  an  art  as  the  engraver's  existed!  He  sat 
over  the  box  with  enamoured  eyes;  his  mind  * 
was  in  a  flutter  of  joy;  and  he  could  not  re- 

E 


34 

train  from  constantly  toucliing  the  different 
aiticles,  to  ascertain  that  they  were  real.  At 
night  he  placed  the  box  on  a  chair  near  his 
bed,  and  as  often  as  he  was  overpowered  by 
sleep,  he  started  suddenly  and  stretched  out 
his  hand  to  satisfy  himself  that  the  posses- 
sion of  such  a  treasure  was  not  merely  a 
pleasing  dream.  He  rose  at  the  dawn  of  day, 
and  carried  the  box  to  a  room  in  the  garret, 
where  he  spread  a  canvass,  prepared  a  pal- 
let, and  immediately  began  to  imitate  the 
figures  in  the  engi^avings.  Enchanted  by  his 
art  he  forgot  the  school  hours,  and  joined  the 
family  at  dinner  without  mentioning  the  em- 
ployment in  which  he  had  been  engaged.  In 
the  afternoon  he  again  retired  to  his  study 
in  the  garret;  and  for  several  days  succes- 
sively he  thus  withdrew  and  devoted  himself 
to  painting.  The  schoolmaster,  observing  his 
absence,  sent  to  ask  the  cause  of  it.  Mrs. 
West,  affecting  not  to  take  any  particular  no- 
tice of  the  message,  recollected  that  she  had 
seen  Benjamin  going  up  stairs  every  morn- 


S5 

ing,  and  suspecting  that  the  box  occasioned 
his  neglect  of  the  school,  went  to  the  garret, 
and  found  him  employed  on  the  picture.  Her 
anger  was  appeased  by  the  sight  of  his  per- 
formance, and  changed  to  a  very  different 
feeling.  She  saw,  not  a  mere  copy,  but  a 
composition  from  two  of  the  engravings: 
with  no  other  guide  than  that  delicacy  of  sight 
which  renders  the  painter's  eye,  with  respect 
to  colours,  what  the  musician's  ear  is  to 
sounds,  he  had  formed  a  picture  as  complete, 
in  the  scientific  arrangement  of  the  tints, 
notwithstanding  the  necessary  imperfection 
of  the  pencilling,  as  the  most  skilful  artist 
could  have  painted,  assisted  by  the  precepts 
of  Newton.  She  kissed  him  with  transports 
of  affection,  and  assured  liim  that  she  woidd 
not  only  intercede  with  his  father  to  pardon*" 
him  for  having  absented  himself  from  school, 
but  would  go  herself  to  the  master,  and  beg 
that  he  might  not  be  punished.  The  delight- 
ful encouragement  which  this  well-judged  * 
kindness  afforded  to  the  young  painter  may 


36 

be  easUy  imagined;  but  who  will  not  regret 
that  the  mother's  over-anxious  admiration 
would  not  suffer  him  to  finish  the  picture, 
lest  he  should  spoil  what  was  ah  eady  in  her 
opinion  perfect,  even  with  half  the  canvass 
bare?  Sixty-seven  years  aftei^wards  the  wiiter 
of  these  memou^s  had  the  gratification  to  see 
this  piece  in  the  same  room  wth  the  sublime 
painting  of  "  Cliiist  Rejected,"  on  which  oc- 
casion the  painter  declared  to  him  that  there 
were  inventive  touches  of  art  in  his  first  and 
juvenile  essay,  wliich,  with  aU  his  subsequent 
knowledge  and  experience,  he  had  not  been 
'    able  to  sm'pass. 


CHAPTER  II. 

I.  The  artist  visits  Philadelphia.     II.  His  second  picture.     HI.  William* 

the  painter  gives  him  the  works  of  Fresnoy  and  Richardson.  IV.  An- 
ecdote of  the  tailor's  apprentice.  V.  The  drawings  of  the  schoolboys. 
IV.  Anecdote  relative  to  Wayne.  VII.  Anecdote  relative  to  Mr. 
Flower.  VIII.  Anecdote  relative  to  Mr.  Ross.  IX.  Anecdote  of  Mr. 
Henry.  X.  The  artist's  first  historical  picture.  XI.  Origin  of  his  ac- 
quaintance with  Dr.  Smith  of  Philadelphia.  XII.  The  friendship  of 
Dr.  Smith,  and  the  character  of  the  early  companions  of  West.  XIII. 
Anecdote  of  general  Washington. 

I.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  after  the 
affair  of  the  painting,  Mr.  Pennington  paid 
another  visit  to  Mr.  West;  and  was  so  liigh- 
ly  pleased  with  the  effect  of  his  present,  and 
the  promising  talents  of  Ms  young  relation, 
that  he  entreated  the  old  gentleman  to  allow 
Benjamin  to  accompany  him  for  a  few  days  to 
Philadelphia.  This  was  cheerfully  agreed  to, 
and  the  artist  felt  himself  almost  as  much 
deUghted  with  the  journey  as  with  the  box 
of  colours.  Every  thing  in  the  town  filled 
him  with  astonishment;  but  the  view  of  the 


38 

shipping,  wliich  was  entirely  new,  particu- 
larly attracted  his  eye,  and  interested  him 
like  the  imaginary  spectacles  of  magic. 

II.  When  the  first  emotions  of  his  pleasm'e 
and  wonder  had  subsided,  he  applied  to  Mr. 
Pennington  to  procure  him  materials  for 
painting.  That  gentleman  was  desirous  of 
getting  possession  of  the  first  picture,  and 
had  only  resigned  what  he  jocularly  alleged 
were  his  just  claims,  in  consideration  of  the 
mother's  feeUngs,  and  on  being  assured  that 
the  next  picture  should  be  purposely  paint- 
ed for  him.  The  materials  were  procured, 
and  the  arfst  composed  a  landscape,  which 
comprehended  a  picturesque  \iew  of  a  river, 
with  vessels  on  the  water,  and  cattle  pastur- 
ing on  the  banks.  While  he  was  engaged  in 
this  picture,  an  incident  occurred  which, 
though  trivial  in  itself,  was  so  much  in  uni- 
son with  the  other  circumstances  that  favour- 
ed the  bent  of  his  genius,  that  it  ought  not  to 
be  omitted. 


29 

III.  Samuel  Shoemaker,*  an  intimate  friend 
of  Mr.  Pennington,  one  of  the  principal  mer-  4 
chants  of  Philadelpliia,  happened  to  meet  in 
the  street  with  one  Williams,  a  painter,  car- 
rying home  a  picture.  Struck  by  the  beauty 
of  the  performance,  he  inquired  if  it  was  in- 
tended for  sale,  and  being  told  that  it  was  al- 
ready disposed  of,  he  ordered  another  to  be 
painted  for  himself.  When  the  painting  was 
finished,  he  requested  the  artist  to  carry  it 
to  Mr.  Pennington's  house,  in  order  that  it 
might  be  shown  to  young  West.  It  was  veiy 
well  executed,  and  the  boy  was  so  much  as- 
tonished at  the  sight  of  it,  that  his  emotion 
and  surprise  attracted  the  attention  of  Wil- 
liams, who  was  a  man  of  observation,  and 
judged  correctly  in  thinking  that  such  an  un- 
common manifestation  of  sensibility  in  so 
young  a  boy,  indicated  something  extraordi- 
nary in  his  character.  He  entered  into  con- 
versation with  him,  and  inquired  if  he  had 

*  This  gentleman  was  afterwards  introduced  by  Mr. 
West  to  the  king,  at  Windsor,  as  one  of  the  American  loy- 
alists. 


read  any  books,  or  the  lives  of  great  men. 
The  little  amateur  told  liim  that  he  had  read 
the  Bible,  and  was  well  acquainted  with  the 
history  of  Adam,  Joseph,  David,  Solomon,  and 
the  other  gixat  and  good  men  whose  actions 
are  recorded  in  the  Holy  Scriptures.  Williams 
was  much  pleased  with  the  simpUcity  of  the 
answer;  and  it  might  have  occurred  to  him 
that  histories  more  interesting  have  never 
been  written,  or  written  so  well.  Turning  to 
Mr.  Pennington,  who  was  present,  he  asked 
if  Benjamin  was  his  son;  advising  him  at  the 
same  time  to  indulge  him  in  whatever  might 
appear  to  be  the  bent  of  his  talents,  assuring 
him  that  he  was  no  common  boy. 

Tills  interview  was  afterwards  much  spo- 
ken of  by  WiUiams,  who  in  the  mean  time 
lent  him  the  works  of  Fresnoy  and  Richardson 
on  painting,  and  invited  liim  to  see  his  pic- 
tures and  drawings.  The  impression  which 
these  books  made  on  the  imagination  of  West 
finally  decided  Ms  destination.  He  was  allow- 


41 

ed  to  carry  them  with  him  into  the  country; 
and  his  father  and  mother,  soon  perceiving  a 
great  change  in  his  conversation,  were  refer- 
red to  the  books  for  an  explanation  of  the 
cause.  They  read  them  for  the  first  time 
themselves,  and  treasuring  in  then-  minds 
those  anecdotes  of  the  indications  of  the  early 
symptoms  of  talent  with  which  both  works 
abound,  they  remembered  the  prophetic  in- 
junction of  Edmund  Peckover. 

IV.  The  effect  of  the  enthusiasm  inspired 
by  Richardson  and  Fresnoy  may  be  conceiv- 
ed fi'om  the  following  incident.  Soon  after 
the  young  artist  had  returned  to  Springfield, 
one  of  his  schoolfellows,  on  a  Saturday's  half 
holiday,  engaged  him  to  give  up  a  party  at 
trap-ball  to  ride  with  him  to  one  of  the  neigh- 
bouring plantations.  At  the  time  appointed 
the  boy  came,  vrtth  the  horse  saddled.  West 
inquired  how  he  was  to  ride;  "  Behind  me,*' 
said  the  boy;  but  Benjamin,  fiill  of  the  dignity 
of  the  profession  to  which  he  felt  himself  des- 


vy 


42 

tined,  ansv/ered,  that  he  never  would  ride  be- 
liiiid  any  body.  "  0!  very  well  then,"  said  the 
good-natured  boy,  '•  you  may  take  the  saddle, 
and  I  ^^ill  get  up  behind  you."  Thus  mount- 
ed, they  proceeded  on  their  excursion;  and 
the  boy  began  to  inform  his  companion  that 
liis  father  intended  to  send  liim  to  be  an  ap- 
prentice. "  In  what  business?"  inqim^ed  West; 
"a  tailor,"  answered  the  boy.  '•  Surely,"  said 
West,  "  you  ^vill  never  follow  that  trade;" 
animadveiUng  upon  its  feminine  character. 
The  other,  however,  was  a  slirewd,  sound- 
headed  lad,  and  defended  tlie  election  veiy 
stoutly,  saying  that  liis  father  had  made  choice 
of  it  for  Mm,  and  that  tlie  person  with  whom 
he  was  to  learn  the  business  was  much  re- 
spected by  all  his  neighbours.  "  But  what  do 
you  intend  to  be,  Benjamin?"  West  answered, 
that  he,  had  not  thought  at  all  on  tlie  subject, 
but  he  should  hke  to  be  a  painter.  "A 
painter!"  exclaimed  the  boy,  "  what  sort  of  a 
ti'ade  is  a  painter?  I  never  heai'd  of  such  a 
thing."    "A  painter,"  said  W^est,  "  is  a  com- 


43 

pardon  for  kings  and  emperors."  '•  Surely 
you  are  mad,"  replied  the  boy,  "for  there 
are  no  such  people  in  America."  "Very 
true,"  answered  Benjamin,  "but  there  are 
plenty  in  other  parts  of  the  world."  The 
other,  still  more  amazed  at  the  apparent  ab- 
surdity of  this  speech,  reiterated  in  a  tone  of 
greater  surprise,  "  you  are  surely  quite  mad." 
To  this  the  enthusiast  replied  by  asking  liim 
if  he  really  intended  to  be  a  tailor.  "  Most 
certainly,"  answered  the  other.  "  Then  you 
may  ride  by  yourself,  for  I  will  no  longer 
keep  your  company,"  said  West,  and,  aUght- 
ing,  immediately  returned  home. 

V.  The  report  of  this  incident,  mth  the 
affair  of  the  picture,  which  had  occasioned 
his  absence  from  school,  and  visit  to  Philadel- 
phia, made  a  great  impression  on  the  boys  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Springfield.  All  their 
accustomed  sports  were  neglected,  and  their 
play-hours  devoted  to  di^awing  with  chalk  and 
oker.     The  little  president  was  confessedly 


44 

the  most  expert  among  them,  but  he  has 
often  since  declared,  that,  according  to  Ms 
recollection*  many  of  his  juvenile  compa- 
nions evinced  a  degree  of  taste  and  skill  in 
this  exercise,  that  would  have  done  no  dis- 
credit to  the  students  of  any  regular  academy. 

VI.  Not  far  from  the  residence  of  Mr. 
West  a  cabinet-maker  had  a  shop,  in  which 
Benjamin  sometimes  amused  himself  with 
the  tools  of  the  workmen.  One  day  several 
large  and  beautiful  boards  of  poplar  tree  were 
brought  to  it;  and  he  happening  to  observe 
that  they  would  answer  very  well  for  di^aw- 
ing  on,  the  owner  gave  him  two  or  three  of 
them  for  that  purpose,  and  he  drew  figures 
and  compositions  on  them  with  ink,  chalk, 
and  charcoal.  Mr.  Wayne,  a  gentleman  of 
the  neighbourhood,  ha\ing  soon  after  occa- 
sion to  call  at  his  father's,  noticed  the  boards 
in  the  rooiti,  and  was  so  much  pleased  with 
the  drawings,  that  he  begged  the  young  aiiist 
to  allow  him  to  take  two  or  three  of  them 


45 

home,  which,  as  but  little  value  was  set  on 
them,  was  thought  no  great  favour,  either  by 
the  painter  or  his  father.  Next  day  Mr. 
Wayne  called  again,  and  after  compliment- 
ing Benjamin  on  his  taste  and  proficiency, 
gave  him  a  dollar  for  each  of  the  boards 
which  he  had  taken  away,  and  was  resolved 
to  preserve.  And  doctor  Jonathan  Moris,  an- 
other neighbour,  soon  after,  also  made  him 
a  present  of  a  few  dollars  to  buy  materials 
to  paint  with.  These  were  the  first  public 
patrons  of  the  artist;  and  it  is  at  his  own  re- 
quest that  their  names  are  thus  particularly 
inserted. 

VII.  About  twelve  months  after  the  visit 
to  Philadelphia,  Mr.  Flower,  one  of  the  jus- 
tices of  the  county  of  Chester,  who  possessed 
some  taste  in  painting,  requested  Mr.  West  to 
allow  Benjamin  to  spend  a  few  weeks  at  his 
house.  A  short  time  before,  this  gentleman 
had  met  with  a  severe  domestic  misfortune  in 
the  loss  of  a  wife,  to  whom  he  was  much  at- 


46 

tached;  and  he  resolved  to  show  his  respect 
to  Her  memory  by  devoting  his  attention  ex- 
clusively to  tlie  improvement  of  his  children: 
for  this  purpose  he  had  sent  to  England  for  a 
governess  qualified  to  undertake  the  educa- 
tion of  his  daughters,  and  he  had  tlie  good 
fortune  to  obtain  a  lady  eminently  fitted  for 
the  trust.  She  arrived  a  few  days  only  before 
the  young  artist,  and  her  natural  discernment 
enabled  her  to  appreciate  that  original  bias  of 
mind  which  she  had  heard  ascribed  to  him, 
and  of  which  she  soon  perceived  the  deter- 
mination and  the  strength.  Finding  him  unac- 
quainted Avith  any  other  books  than  the  Bible, 
and  the  works  of  Richardson  and  Fresnoy,  she 
frequently  in>dted  him  to  sit  with  her  pupils, 
and,  during  the  inten  als  of  their  tasks,  she 
read  to  liim  the  most  stiiking  and  pictm^esque 
passages  fi'om  translations  of  the  ancient  his- 
torians and  poetry,  of  wMch  Mr.  Flower  had 
a  choice  and  extensive  collection.  It  was  fi^om 
this  intelligent  woman  that  he  heard,  for  the 
^  first  time,  of  tlie  Greeks  and  Romansj  and  the 


47 

impression  which  the  story  of  those  illustri- 
ous nations  made  on  his  mind,  was  answerable 
to  her  expectations. 

VIII.  Among  the  acquaintance  of  Mr. 
Flower  was  a  Mr.  Ross,  a  lawyer  in  the  town 
of  Lancaster,  a  place  at  that  time  remarkable 
for  its  wealth,  and  wliich  had  the  reputation 
of  possessing  the  best  and  most  intelligent  so- 
ciety to  be  then  found  in  America.  It  was 
chiefly  inhabited  by  Germans,  who  of  all  peo- 
ple in  the  practice  of  emigrating,  carry  along 
with  them  the  gi'eatest  stock  of  knowledge 
and  accomplishments.  The  society  of  Lancas- 
ter, therefore,  though  it  could  not  boast  of  any 
very  distinguished  character,  yet  comprehend- 
ed many  individuals  who  were  capable  of  ap- 
preciating the  merit  of  essays  in  art,  and  of 
discriminating  the  rude  efforts  of  real  genius 
from  the  more  complete  productions  of  xnere 
mechanical  skill.  It  was  exactly  in  such  a 
place  that  such  a  youth  as  Benjamin  West 
was  likely  to  meet  with  tliat  flattering  atten- 


48 

tion  which  is  the  best  stimulus  of  juvenile  ta- 
lent. The  wife  of  Mr.  Ross  was  greatly  admi- 
red for  her  beauty,  and  she  had  several  cliil- 
dren  who  were  so  remarkable  in  this  respect 
as  to  be  objects  of  general  notice.  One  day 
when  Mr.  Flower  was  dining  with  them,  he 
advised  his  friend  to  have  their  portraits 
taken;  and  mentioned  that  they  would  be  ex- 
cellent subjects  for  young  West.  Application 
was  in  consequence  made  to  old  Mr.  West, 
and  permission  obtained  for  the  little  artist  to 
go  to  Lancaster  for  the  purpose  of  taking  the 
Ukenesses  of  Mrs.  Ross  and  her  family.  Such 
was  the  success  with  which  he  executed  this 
task,  that  the  sphere  of  liis  celebrity  was 
greatly  enlarged;  and  so  numerous  were  the 
appUcations  for  portraits,  that  it  was  with  dif- 
ficulty he  could  find  time  to  satisfy  the  de- 
mands of  his  admirers. 

IX.  Among  those  who  sent  to  him  in  this 
early  stage  of  his  career,  was  a  person  of  the 
name  of  William  Henry.  He  was  an  able  me- 


49 

chanic,  and  had  acquired  a  handsome  fortune 
by  his  profession  of  a  gunsmith.  Henry  was, 
indeed,  in  several  respects,  an  extraordinary 
man,  and  possessed  the  power  generally  at- 
tendant upon  genius  under  all  circumstances, 
that  of  interesting  the  imagination  of  those 
with  whom  he  conversed.  On  examining  the 
young  artist's  performance,  he  observed  to 
him,  that,  if  he  could  paint  as  well,  he  would 
not  waste  his  time  on  portraits,  but  would  de- 
vote himself  to  historical  subjects^  and  he  ^ 
mentioned  the  death  of  Socrates  as  affording 
one  of  the  best  topics  for  illustrating  the 
moral  effect  of  the  art  of  painting.  The 
painter  knew  nothing  of  the  history  of  the 
philosopher;  and,  upon  confessing  his  igno- 
rance, Mr.  Henry  went  to  his  library,  and, 
taking  down  a  volume  of  the  English  trans- 
lation  of  Plutarch,  read  to  him  the  account 
given  by  that  writer  of  this  affecting  story. 

X.     The    suggestion    and    description 
wrought  upon  the  imagination  of  West,  and  ' 


50 

induced  him  to  make  a  drawng,  which  he 
showed  to  Mr.  Henry,  who  commended  it 
as  a  perspicuous  dehneation  of  the  probable 
circumstances  of  the  event,  and  requested 
him  to  pamt  it.  West  said  that  he  Avould  be 
happy  to  undertake  the  task,  but,  ha\ing  hi- 
therto painted  only  faces  and  men  clothed, 
he]should  be  unable  to  do  justice  to  the  figure 
of  the  slave  who  presented  the  poison,  and 
which  he  thought  ought  to  be  naked.  Henry 
had  among  his  workmen  a  very  handsome 
young  man,  and,  without  waiting  to  answer 
the  objection,  he  sent  for  him  into  the  room. 
On  his  entrance  he  pointed  him  out  to  West, 
and  said,  "there  is  your  model."  The  ap- 
pearance  of  the  young  man,  wliose  arms  and 
breast  were  naked,  instantaneously  convinc- 
ed the  ailist  tliat  he  had  only  to  look  into  na- 
ture for  the  models  which  would  impart 
grace  and  energy  to  liis  dehneation  of  forms. 

XI.  Wlien  the  death  of  Socrates  was  finish- 
ed, it  attracted  much  attention,  and  led  to 


61 

one  of  those   fortunate   acquaintances   by 
which  the  subsequent  career  of  the  artist  has 
been  so  happily  facilitated.  About  this  period 
the  inhabitants  of  Lancaster  had  resolved  to 
erect  a  public  grammar-school;  and  doctor 
Smith,  the  provost  of  the  college  at  Pliiladel- 
phia,  was  invited  by  them  to  arrange  the 
course  of  instruction,  and  to  place  the  insti- 
tution in  the  way  best  calculated  to  answer 
the  intention  of  the  founders.    This  gentle- 
man was  an  excellent  classical  scholar,  and 
combined  with  his  knowledge  and  admira- 
tion of  the  merits  of  the  ancients  that  libe- 
rality of  respect  for  the  endeavours  of  mo- 
dern talent,  with  which  the  same  kind  of 
feeling  is  but  rarely  found  connected.  After 
seeing  the  picture  and  conversing  with  the 
artist,  he  offered  to  undertake  to  make  him 
to  a  certain  degree  acquainted  with  classical 
literature;  while  at  the  same  time  he  would  *' 
give  him  such  a  sketch  of  the  taste  and  cha-  ' 
racter  of  the  spirit  of  antiquity,  as  would 
have  all  the  effect  of  the  regular  education 


52 

requisite  to  a  painter.  When  this  liberal  pro- 
posal  was  communicated  to  old  Mr.  West,  he 
readily  agreed  that  Benjamin  should  go  for 
some  time  to  Philadelphia,  in  order  to  take 
advantage  of  the  provost's  instructions;  and 
accordingly,  after  returning  home  for  a  fev^r 
days,  Benjamin  went  to  the  capital,  and 
resided  at  the  house  of  Mr.  Clarkson,  his 
brother-in-law,  a  gentleman  who  had  been 
educated  at  Leyden,  and  was  much  respected 
for  the  intelligence  of  his  conversation,  and 
•  the  propriety  of  his  manners. 

XII.  Provost  Smith  introduced  West, 
among  other  persons,  to  four  young  men, 
pupils  of  his  own,  whom  he  particularly  re- 
commended to  his  acquaintance,  as  possess- 
ing endowments  of  mind  greatly  superior  to 
the  common  standard  of  mankind.  One  of 
these  was  Francis  Hopkins,  who  aftei^ards 
highly  distinguished  himself  in  the  early  pro- 
ceedings of  the  congi^ess  of  the  United  States. 
Thomas  Godfrey,  the  second,  died  after  hav- 


53 

ing  given  the  most  promising  indications  of 
an  elegant  genius  for  pathetic  and  descrip- 
tive poetry.  He  was  an  apprentice  to  a  watch- 
maker, and  had  secretly  written  a  poem, 
which  he  published  anonymously  in  the  Phi- 
ladelphia newspaper,  under  the  title  of  the 
"  Temple  of  Fame."  The  attention  which 
it  attracted,  and  the  encomiums  which  the 
provost  in  particular  bestowed  on  it,  induced 
West,  who  was  in  the  poet's  confidence,  to 
mention  to  him  who  was  the  author.  The  in- 
formation excited  the  alert  benevolence  of 
Smith's  character,  and  he  lost  no  time  until 
he  had  procured  the  release  of  Godfrey  from 
his  indenture,  and  a  respectable  employ- 
ment for  him  in  the  government  of  the  state; 
but  this  he  did  not  live  long  to  enjoy;  being 
sent  on  some  public  business  to  Carohna,  he 
fell  a  victim  to  the  climate. 

XIII.  It  is  pleasant  to  redeem  from  obli- 
vion the  memory  of  early  talent  thus  pre- 
maturely withdrawn  from  the  world.  Many 


54 

of  Godfi^ey's  vei^es  were  composed  under  a 
dump  of  pines  which  grew  near  the  upper 
ferry  of  the  river  Schuylkill,  to  which  spot 
he  sometimes  accompanied  West  and  their 
mutual  friends  to  angle.  In  the  heat  of  the 
day  he  used  to  stretch  himself  beneath  the 
shade  of  the  ti'ees,  and  repeat  to  them  his 
verses  as  he  composed  them.  Reid  was  the 
name  of  the  other  young  man,  and  the  same 
person  who  first  opposed  the  British  troops 
in  their  passing  through  Jersey,  when  the 
rebellion  of  the  provinces  commenced.  Pre- 
vious to  tlie  revolution,  he  was  bred  to  the 
bar,  and  practised  with  distinction  in  the 
courts  of  Pliiladelpliia.  He  was  afterwards 
elected  a  member  of  congi^ess,  and  is  the 
same  person  who  was  appointed  to  meet 
lord  CarUsle  on  his  mission  from  tlie  British, 
court. 

XrV.  Pi'ovost  Smith  was  himself  possess- 
ed of  a  fluent  vein  of  powerful  eloquence, 
and  it  happened  that  many  of  his  pupils  who 


55 

distinguished  themselves  in  the  great  strug- 
gle of  their  country,  appeared  to  have  im- 
bibed his  talent;  but  none  of  them  more 
than  Jacob  Duche,  another  of  the  four  youths 
whom  he  recommended  to  the  artist.  He 
became  a  clergyman,  and  was  celebrated 
throughout  the  whole  of  the  British  pro- 
vinces in  America  as  a  most  pathetic  and 
persuasive  preacher.  The  publicity  of  his 
character  in  the  world  was,  however,  chiefly 
owing  to  a  letter  which  he  addressed  to  ge- 
neral Washington,  soon  after  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  chief  command  of  the  army. 
The  purport  of  this  letter  was  to  persuade 
the  general  to  go  over  to  the  British  cause. 
It  was  carried  to  liim  by  a  Mrs.  Ferguson,  a 
daughter  of  Doctor  Graham,  a  Scottish  phy- 
sician in  Philadelphia.  Washington,  with 
his  army,  at  that  time  lay  at  Valley-forge, 
and  tills  lady,  on  the  pretext  of  paying  Iiim 
a  visit,  as  they  were  previously  acquainted, 
went  to  the  camp.  The  general  received  her 
in  his  tent  with  much  respect,  for  he  greatly 


56 

admired  the  masculine  vigour  of  her  mind. 
When  she  had  delivered  the  letter  he  read 
it  attentively,  and,  rising  from  his  seat,  walk- 
ed backwards  and  forwards  upwards  of  an 
hour,  without  speaking.  He  appeared  to  be 
much  agitated  during  the  gi^eatest  part  of  the 
time;  but  at  length,  having  decided  with 
himself,  he  stopped,  and  addressed  her  in 
nearly  the  following  words :  "  Madam,  I  have 
always  esteemed  your  character  and  endow- 
ments, and  I  am  fully  sensible  of  the  noble 
principles  by  which  you  are  actuated  on  this 
occasion;  nor  has  any  man  in  the  whole  con- 
tinent more  confidence  in  the  integrity  of  his 
friend,  than  I  have  in  the  honour  of  Mr. 
Duche.  But  I  am  here  entrusted  by  the 
people  of  America  with  sovereign  authority. 
They  have  placed  their  lives  and  fortunes  at 
my  disposal,  because  they  beheve  me  to  be 
an  honest  man.  Were  I,  therefore,  to  desert 
their  cause,  and  consign  them  again  to  the 
British,  what  would  be  the  consequence?  to 
myself  perpetual  infamy;  and  to  them  endless 


57 

calamity.  The  seeds  of  everlasting  divi- 
sion are  sown  between  the  two  countries; 
and,  were  the  British  again  to  become  our 
masters,  they  would  have  to  maintain  their 
dominion  by  force,  and  would,  after  all,  retain 
us  in  subjection  only  so  long  as  they  could 
hold  their  bayonets  to  our  breasts.  No, 
Madam,  the  proposal  of  Mr.  Duche,  though 
conceived  v^th  the  best  intention,  is  not 
framed  in  wisdom.  America  and  England 
must  be  separate  states;  but  they  may  have 
common  interests,  for  they  are  but  one  people. 
It  will,  therefore,  be  the  object  of  my  life 
and  ambition  to  establish  the  independence 
of  America  in  the  first  place:  and  in  the 
second,  to  aiTange  such  a  community  of  in- 
terests between  the  two  nations  as  shall 
indemnify  them  for  the  calamities  which 
they  now  suffer,  and  form  a  new  sera  in  the 
history  of  nations.  But,  Madam,  you  are 
aware  that  I  have  many  enemies;  congress 
may  hear  of  your  visit,  and  of  this  letter,  and 
T  should  be  suspected  were  I  to  conceal  it 

H 


58 

from  them.  I  respect  you  truly,  as  I  have 
said;  and  I  esteem  the  probity  and  motives 
of  Mr.  Duche,  and  therefore  you  are  free  to 
depart  from  the  camp,  but  the  letter  will  be 
transmitted  without  delay  to  confess." 

Mrs.  Ferguson  herself  communicated  the 
circumstances  of  this  interesting  transaction 
to  Mr.  West,  after  she  came  to  England;  for 
she,  as  well  as  Mr.  Duche,  were  obliged  to 
quit  the  country.  It  is  painfiil  to  add,  that 
Duche  came  to  England,  and  was  allowed 
to  pine  unnoticed  by  the  government,  and 
was  heai'd  of  no  more. 


CHAPTER  III. 

I.  The  course  of  instruction  adopted  by  provost  Smith.  II.  The  artist 
led  to  the  discovery  of  the  camera.  III.  His  father  becomes  anxious 
to  place  him  in  business.  IV  Extraordinary  proceedings  of  the 
quakers  in  consequence.  V.  The  speech  of  WiUiamson  the  preacher 
in  defence  of  the  fine  arts.  VI.  Magnanimous  resolution  of  the 
quakers.     VlII.  Reflections  on  this  singular  transaction. 

I.  JL  HERE  was  something  so  judicious 
in  the  plan  of  study  which  provost  Smith  had 
formed  for  his  pupil,  that  it  deserves  to  be 
particularly  considered.  He  regarded  him 
as  destined  to  be  a  painter;  and  on  this 
account  did  not  impose  upon  him  those 
grammatical  exercises  of  language  which  are 
usually  required  from  the  young  student 
of  the  classics,  but  directed  his  attention  to 
those  incidents  which  were  likely  to  interest 
his  fancy,  and  to  furnish  him  at  some  future 
time  with  subjects  for  the  easel.  He  carried 
him  immediately  to  those  passages  of  ancient 
history  which  make  the  most  lasting  impres- 


60 

sion  on  the  imagination  of  the  regular-bred 
scholar,  and  described  the  pictui'esque  cir- 
cumstances of  the  transactions  with  a  mi- 
nuteness of  detail  that  would  have  been 
supei^uous  to  a  general  student. 

II.  In  the  midst  of  this  course  of  education, 
the  artist  happened  to  be  taken  ill  of  a  slight 
fever,  and  when  it  had  subsided,  he  was  in  so 
weak  a  state  as  to  be  obliged  to  keep  his 
bed,  and  to  have  the  room  darkened.  In 
this  situation  he  remained  several  days,  with 
no  other  Ught  tlian  what  was  admitted  by 
the  seams  and  fissures  in  the  window  shut- 
ters, which  had  the  usual  effect  of  expanding 
tlie  pupil  of  his  eyes  to  such  a  degi^ee,  that 
he  could  distinctly  see  every  object  in  the 
room,  which  to  otliers  appeared  in  complete 
obscurity.  ^Yhile  he  was  thus  lying  in  bed, 
he  obsei-ved  the  apparitional  form  of  a  wliite 
cow  enter  at  tlie  one  side  of  the  roof,  and 
walking  over  the  bed,  gradually  vanish  at  the 
other.     The    phenomenon    siu^rised   liim 


exceedingly,  and  he  feared  that  his  mind  was 
impaired  by  his  disease,  which  his  sister  also 
suspected,  when  on  entering  to  inquire  how 
he  felt  himself,  he  related  to  her  what  he 
had  seen.  Without,  however,  saying  any 
thing,  she  went  immediately  and  informed 
her  husband,  who  accompanied  her  back  to 
the  apartment;  and  as  they  were  standing 
near  the  bed.  West  repeated  the  story,  ex- 
claiming in  his  discourse  that  he  saw,  at  the 
very  moment  in  which  he  was  then  speaking, 
several  little  pigs  running  along  the  roof. 
This  confirmed  them  in  the  apprehension 
of  his  dehrium,  and  they  sent  for  a  physician. 
But  the  doctor  could  discover  no  symptoms 
of  fever,  the  pulse  lyas  regular,  the  skin 
moist  and  cool,  the  thirst  was  abated,  and 
indeed  every  thing  about  the  patient  indi- 
cated convalescence.  Still  the  painter  per- 
sisted in  his  story,  and  assured  them  that 
he  then  saw  the  figures  of  several  of  their 
mutual  friends  passing  on  the  roof,  over  the 
bed;  and  that  he  even  saw  fowls  pecking. 


63 

and  the  very  stones  of  the  street.  All  this 
seemed  to  them  very  extraordinary,  for  their 
eyes,  not  accustomed  to  the  gloom  of  the 
chamber,  could  discern  nothing,  and  the 
learned  physician  himself,  in  despite  of  the 
symptoms,  began  to  suspect  that  the  con- 
valescent was  really  delirious.  Prescribing, 
therefore,  a  composing  mixture,  which  the 
painter  submitted  to  swallow,  he  took  his 
fee  and  leave,  requesting  Mrs.  Clarkson  and 
her  husband  to  come  away  and  not  disturb 
the  patient.  After  they  had  retired,  curi- 
osity overcame  the  influence  of  the  drug, 
and  the  artist  got  up,  determined  to  find  out 
the  cause  of  the  strange  apparitions  which 
had  so  alarmed  them  all.  In  a  short  time 
he  discovered  a  diagonal  knot-hole  in  one 
of  the  window  shutters,  and  upon  placing 
his  hand  over  it,  the  visionary  paintings  on 
the  roof  disappeared.  This  confirmed  him 
in  an  opinion  that  he  began  to  form,  that 
there  must  be  some  simple  natural  cause 
for  what  he  had  seen;   and,  having  thus 


63 

ascertained  the  way  in  which  it  acted,  he 
called  his  sister  and  her  husband  into  the 
room  and  explained  it  to  them.  When  able 
to  go  down  stairs,  Mr.  Clarkson  gave  him 
permission  to  perforate  one  of  the  parlour 
window  shutters  horizontally,  in  order  to 
obtain  a  representation  on  the  waU  of  the 
buildings  of  the  opposite  side  of  the  street. 
The  effect  was  as  he  expected,  but,  to  his 
astonishment,  the  objects  appeared  inverted. 
Without  attempting  to  remedy  this  with  the 
aid  of  glasses,  as  a  mathematical  genius 
would  perhaps  have  done,  he  was  dehghted 
to  see  in  it  the  means  of  studying  the  pictu- 
ral  appearance  of  nature,  and  he  hailed  the 
discovery  as  a  revelation  to  promote  liis 
improvement  in  the  art  of  painting.  On  his 
return  soon  after  to  his  father's,  he  had  a 
box  made  with  one  of  the  sides  perforated; 
and,  adverting  to  the  reflective  power  of 
the  mirror,  he  contrived,  vrithout  ever 
having  heard  of  the  instrument,  to  invent 
the  Camera,  Thus  furnisliing  another  proof, 


64 

that  although  the  faculty  which  enables  a 
man  to  excel  in  any  particular  art  or  science 
is  a  natural  endowment,  it  is  seldom  unac- 
companied with  a  general  superiority  of 
observation.  It  will,  however,  not  be  dis- 
puted, that  a  boy  under  sixteen,  who  had 
thus,  by  the  guidance  of  his  own  unassisted 
judgment,  found  out  a  method  of  ascertain- 
ing the  colour  and  outline  of  natural  objects 
as  they  should  appear  in  painting,  possessed 
no  ordinary  mind.  Observations  of  this 
nature  mark  the  difference  between  iimate 
talent  and  instructed  habits;  and,  whether  in 
painting,  or  in  poetry,  in  art,  or  in  science, 
constitute  the  source  of  that  peculiarity  of 
intellect  wliich  is  discriminated  from  the 
effects  of  education,  by  the  name  of  original 
talent.  The  self-educated  man  of  genius, 
when  his  mind  is  formed,  differs  but  little  in 
the  method  of  expressing  his  notions,  from 
the  most  mechanical  disciple  of  the  schools; 
but  the  process  by  wliich  he  attains  that 
result,  renders  his  history  interesting  by  its 


65 

incidents,  and  valuable  by  the  hints  which  it 
furnishes  for  the  study  of  human  character. 
It  is,  perhaps,  also,  one  great  cause  of  Ms 
own  distinguishing  features  of  mind,  as  the 
very  contrivances  to  which  he  has  recourse 
have  the  effect  of  taking,  as  it  were,  some- 
thing extraneous  into  the  matter  of  his  ex- 
periments which  tinges  the  product  with 
curious  and  singular  effects. — West,  on  after- 
wards mentioning  his  discovery  to  Williams 
the  painter,  was  surprised  to  find  himself 
anticipated,  that  artist  having  received  a 
complete  camera  some  time  before  from 
England. 

III.  In  this  favourable  state  of  things  he 
attained  his  sixteenth  year,  when  his  father 
became  anxious  to  see  him  settled  in  some 
established  business.  For,  though  reluctant 
to  thwart  the  bias  of  a  genius  at  once  so 
decided  and  original,  and  to  which  the  in- 
junction of  Peckover  had  rendered  him 
favourable  and  indulgent,  the  old  gentleman 


66 

was  sensible  that  the  profession  of  a  painter 
was  not  only  precarious,  but  regarded  by 
the  religious  association  to  which  he  be- 
longed, as  adverse  to  tlieh'  tenets,  by  being 
only  ornamental;  and  he  was  anxious,  on  his 
son's  account  and  on  his  own,  to  avoid  those 
animadversions  to  which  he  was  exposed  by 
the  freedom  he  had  hitherto  granted  to  the 
predilections  of  Benjamin.  He,  therefore, 
consulted  several  of  his  neighbom^s  on  the 
subject;  and  a  meeting  of  the  society  of 
friends  in  the  vicinity  was  called,  to  consider, 
publicly,  what  ought  to  be  the  destiny  of 
his  son. 

IV.  The  assembly  met  in  the  meeting, 
house  near  Springfield,  and  after  much 
debate,  approaching  to  altercation,  a  man  of 
the  name  of  John  Williamson  rose,  and  de- 
livered a  very  extraordinaiy  speech  upon  the 
subject.  He  was  much  respected  by  all 
present,  for  the  purity  and  integrity  of  his 
life,   and   enjoyed   great  influence    in  his 


67 

sphere  on  account  of  the  superiority  of  his 
natural  wisdom,  and,  as  a  public  preacher 
among  the  friends,  possessed  an  astonishing 
gift  of  convincing  eloquence.  He  pointed 
to  old  Mr.  West  and  his  wife,  and  expatiated 
on  the  blameless  reputation  which  they  had 
so  long  maintained,  and  merited  so  well. 
"  They  have  had,"  said  he,  "  ten  children, 
whom  they  have  carefully  brought  up  in  the 
fear  of  God,  and  in  the  christian  religion; 
and  the  youth,  whose  lot  in  life  we  are  now 
convened  to  consider,  is  Benjamin,  their 
youngest  child.  It  is  known  to  you  all  that 
God  is  pleased,  from  time  to  time,  to  bestow 
upon  some  men  extraordinary  gifts  of  mind, 
and  you  need  not  be  told  by  how  wonderful 
an  inspiration  their  son  has  been  led  to  cul- 
tivate the  art  of  painting.  It  is  true  that  our 
tenets  deny  the  utility  of  that  art  to  mankind. 
But  God  has  bestowed  on  the  youth  a  genius 
for  the  art,  and  can  we  beUeve  that  Omni- 
science bestows  his  gifts  but  for  great  pur- 
poses? What  God  has  given,  who  shall  dare 


68 

to  throw  away?  Let  us  not  estimate  almighty 
wisdom  by  our  notions:  let  us  not  presume 
to  arraign  his  judgment  by  our  ignorance, 
but  in  the  evident  propensity  of  the  young 
man,  be  assured  that  we  see  an  impulse  of 
tlie  divine  hand  operating  towards  some 
high  and  beneficent  end." 

V.  The  effect  of  tliis  argument,  and  the 
lofty  commanding  manner  in  which  it  was 
delivered,  induced  the  assembly  to  agi'ee 
that  the  artist  should  be  allowed  to  indulge 
the  predilections  of  his  genius;  and  a  pri- 
vate meeting  of  the  fiiends  was  appointed  to 
be  holden  at  his  father's  house,  at  which  the 
youth  himself  was  requested  to  be  present, 
in  order  to  receive,  in  form,  the  assent  and 
blessing  of  the  society.  On  the  day  of  meet- 
ing, the  great  room  was  put  in  order,  and  a 
numerous  company  of  both  sexes  assembled. 
Benjamin  was  placed  by  his  father,  and  the 
men  and  women  took  their  respective  forms 
on  each  side.    After  sitting  some  tune  in 


69 

silence,  one  of  the  women  rose,  and  ad- 
dressed the  meeting  on  the  wisdom  of  God, 
and  the  various  occasions  on  wliich  he  se- 
lected from  among  his  creatures  the  agents 
of  his  goodness.  When  she  had  concluded 
her  exhortation,  John  Williamson  also  rose, 
and  in  a  speech  than  which,  perhaps,  the 
porticos  of  Athens  never  resounded  with  a 
more  impressive  oratory,  he  resumed  the 
topic  which  had  been  the  subject  of  his 
former  address.  He  began  by  observing  that 
it  was  fixed  as  one  of  their  indisputable 
maxims,  that  things  merely  ornamental  were 
not  necessary  to  the  well-being  of  man,  and 
that  all  superfluous  things  should  be  ex- 
cluded from  the  usages  and  manners  of 
their  society.  "  In  this  proscription,  we 
have  included,"  said  he,  "the  study  of  the 
fine  arts,  for  we  see  them  applied  only  to 
embellish  pleasures,  and  to  strengthen  our 
inducements  to  gratify  the  senses  at  the 
expense  of  our  immortal  claims.  But,  be- 
cause we  have  seen   painting  put  to   tliis 


70 

derogatory  use,  and  have,  in  consequence, 
proliibited  the  cultivation  of  it  among  us,  ai^e 
we  sure  that  it  is  not  one  of  those  gi^acious 
gifts  which  God  has  bestowed  on  the  world, 
not  to  add  to  the  sensual  pleasures  of  man, 
but  to  facihtate  his  improvement  as  a  social 
and  a  moral  being?  The  fine  arts  are  called 
the  offspring  and  the  emblems  of  peace.  The 
christian  religion  itself  is  the  doctiine  of  good 
will  to  man.     Can  those  things  which  only 
prosper  in  peace  be  contrary  to  the  chris- 
tian religion?   But,  it  is  said,  that  the  fine 
aits  soften  and   emasculate   the   mind.    In 
what  way?  Is  it  by  withdi'awing  those  who 
study  them  from  the  robust  exercises  which 
enable  nations  and  people  to  make  war  with 
success?  It  is  by  lessening  the  disposition  of 
mankind   to   destroy  one  another,  and  by 
taming  the  audacity  of  their  animal  fierce- 
ness? Is  it  for  such  a  reason  as  this,  that  we 
who  profess  to  Uve  in  unison  and  friendship, 
not  only  among  ourselves,  but  with  all  the 
world — that  we  should  object  to  tlie  cultiva- 


7.1 

tion  of  the  fine  arts,  of  those  arts  which 
disarm  the  natural  ferocity  of  man?  We  may 
as  well  be  told  that  the  doctrine  of  peace  and 
life  ought  to  be  proscribed  in  the  world  be- 
cause it  is  pernicious  to  the  practice  of  war 
and  slaughter,  as  that  the  arts  which  call  on 
man  to  exercise  his  intellectual  powers  more 
than  his  physical  strength,  can  be  contrary 
to  chri'^tianity,  and  adverse  to  the  benevo- 
lence of  the  Deity.  I  speak  not,  however,  of 
the  fine  arts  as  the  means  of  amusement, 
nor  the  study  of  them  as  pastime  to  fill  up 
the  vacant  hours  of  business,  though  even  as 
such,  the  taste  for  them  deserves  to  be  re- 
garded as  a  manifestation  of  divine  favour, 
in  as  much  as  they  dispose  the  heart  to  kind 
and  gentle  inclinations.  For,  I  think  them 
ordained  by  God  for  some  great  and  holy 
pui-pose.  Do  we  not  know  that  the  profes- 
sors of  the  fine  arts  are  commonly  men 
greatly  distinguished  by  special  gifts  of  a 
creative  and  discerning  spirit?  If  there  be  any 
thing  in  the  usual  course  of  human  affairs 


7% 

which  exhibits  the  immediate  interposition 
of  the  Deity,  it  is  in  the  progi'ess  of  the  fine 
arts,  in  wliich  it  would  appear  he  often  raises 
up  those  great  characters,  the  spirit  of  whose 
imaginations  have  an  interminable  influence 
on  posterity,  and  who  are  themselves  sepa- 
rated and  elevated  among  the  generality  of 
mankind,  by  the  name  of  men  of  genius. 
Can  we  beUeve  that  all  this  is  not  for  some 
usefiil  purpose?  What  that  purpose  is,  ought 
we  to  pretend  to  investigate?  Let  us  rather 
reflect  that  the  almighty  God  has  been  pleased 
among  us,  and  in  this  remote  wilderness,  to 
endow,  with  the  rich  gifts  of  a  peculiai'  sphit, 
that  youth  who  has  now  our  common  con- 
sent to  cultivate  his  talents  for  an  art,  which, 
according  to  our  humble  and  human  judg- 
ment, was  previously  thought  an  unnecessary 
ministration  to  the  sensual  propensities  of  our 
nature.  May  it  be  demonstrated  by  the  Ufe 
and  works  of  the  artist,  that  the  gift  of  God 
has  not  been  bestowed  on  him  in  vain,  nor 
the  motives  of  the  beneficient  inspiration 


73 

which  induces  us  to  suspend  our  particular 
tenets,  prove  barren  of  religious  or  moral 
effect.  On  the  contrary,  let  us  confidently 
hope  that  this  occurrence  has  been  for  good, 
and  that  the  consequences  which  may  arise 
in  the  society  of  this  new  world,  from  the 
example  which  Benjamin  West  will  be  en- 
abled to  give,  will  be  such  a  love  of  the  arts 
of  peace  as  shall  tend  to  draw  the  ties  of 
affection  closer,  and  diffuse  over  a  wider 
extent  of  community  the  interests  and  bles- 
sing of  fraternal  love.'' 

VI.  At  the  conclusion  of  this  address,  the 
women  rose  and  kissed  the  young  Artist, 
and  the  men,  one  by  one,  laid  their  hands  on 
his  head  and  prayed  that  the  Lord  might 
verify  in  his  life  the  value  of  the  gift  which 
had  induced  them,  in  despite  of  their  religi- 
ous  tenets,  to  allow  him  to  cultivate  the 
faculties  of  his  genius. 


74 

VII.  The  history  of  no  other  individual 
affords  an  incident  so  extraordinary.  Tliis 
coidd  not  be  called  a  presentiment,  but  the 
result  of  a  clear  expectation,  that  some  im- 
portant consequence  would  ensue.  It  may 
be  added  that  a  more  beautiful  instance  of 
liberality  is  not  to  be  found  in  the  records  of 
any  reUgious  society.  Hitherto,  all  sects, 
even  of  christians,  were  disposed  to  regard, 
with  jealousy  and  hatred,  all  those  membei^ 
who  embraced  any  pursuit  that  might  tend 
to  alienate  them  from  their  particular  modes 
of  discipline.  The  quakers  have,  therefore, 
the  honour  of  having  been  the  first  to  allow, 
by  a  pubUc  actv  that  their  conception  of  the 
religious  duties  of  man  was  Uable  to  the 
errors  of  the  human  judgment,  and  was  not 
to  be  maintained  on  the  presumption  of  being 
actually  according  to  the  will  of  God.  There 
is  something  at  once  simple  and  venerable 
in  the  humility  ^th  which  they  regarded 
their  own  peculiar  principles,  especially  con- 
trasted with  the  subUme  \iew  they  appeared 


75 

to  take  of  the  wisdom  and  providence  of 
the  Deity.  But,  with  whatever  dehghtful 
feeUngs  strangers  and  posterity  may  contem- 
plate this  beautiful  example  of  christian  mag- 
nanimity, it  would  be  impossible  to  convey 
any  idea  of  the  sentiments  with  which  it 
affected  the  youth  who  was  the  object  of  its 
exercise.  He  must  have  been  less  than  man 
had  he  not  endeavoured  without  ceasing,  to 
attain  an  honourable  eminence  in  his  profes- 
sion; or,  had  he  forgotten,  in  the  honours 
wliich  he  has  since  received  from  all  polished 
nations,  that  he  was  authorized  by  his  friends 
and  his  religion,  to  cultivate  the  art  by  which 
he  obtained  such  distinctions,  not  for  his  own 
sake,  but  as  an  instrument  chosen  by  Provi- 
dence to  disseminate  the  arts  of  peace  in 
the  world. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

L  Reflections  on  the  eccentricities  d*  young  men  of  genias  with  respect 
to  pecuniary  matters.  11.  The  death  of  the  Artist's  raothcr.  III. 
The  embodying  of  the  Pennsylvania  Militia;  an  anecdote  of  gene- 
ral Wayne.  IV.  The  Artist  elected  commandant  of  a  corps  of  Vo- 
lunteer boys.  V.  The  circumstances  vhich  occasioned  the  search  for 
the  bones  of  Braddock's  army.  VI.  The  search.  VII.  The  discoverj 
of  the  bones  of  the  father  and  brother  of  sir  Peter  Halket.  VIII.  The 
Artist  proposed  afterwards  to  paint  a  picture  of  the  discovery  of  the 
bones  of  the  Halkets.  IX.  He  commences  regularly  as  a  painter.  X. 
He  copies  a  St.  Ignatius.  XI.  He  is  induced  to  attempt  historical  por- 
traiture, XII.  His  picture  of  the  trial  of  Susannah.  XIII.  Of  the 
merits  of  that  picture. 

I.  1  HERE  is  a  regardless  independence 
about  niinds  of  superior  endowment,  which, 
in  similar  charactei^s,  manifests  itself  dif- 
ferently according  to  the  circumstances  in 
which  they  happen  to  be  placed.  Devoted 
to  the  contemplation  of  the  means  of  future 
celebrity,  the  man  of  genius  frequently  finds 
himself  httle  disposed  to  set  a  proper  value 
on  tlie  common  mterests  of  life.  When 
bred  in  affluence,  and  exempted  fi'om  the 


77 

necessity  of  considering  the  importance  of 
money  to  the  attainment  of  his  object,  he  is 
often  found,  to  a  blameful  degree,  negUgent 
of  pecuniary  concerns;  and,  on  the  contrary, 
when  his  situation  is  such  that  he  may  only 
hope  for  distinction,  by  the  practice  of  the 
most  parsimonious  frugality,  he  will  as  often 
appear  in  the  social  and  propeUing  season  of 
youth,  enduring  voluntary  privations  with 
an  equanimity  which  the  ostentatious  fanatic 
or  contrite  penitent  would  in  vain  attempt  to 
surpass.  This  peculiar  feature  of  the  self- 
sustained  mind  of  genius,  has  often  been 
misunderstood,  and  seldom  valued  as  it  ought 
to  be.  The  presumptuous  weak  who  mis- 
take the  wish  of  distinction  for  the  workings 
of  talent,  admire  the  eccentricities  of  the 
gifted  youth  who  is  reared  in  opulence,  and, 
mistaking  the  prodigality  which  is  only  the 
effect  of  his  fortune,  for  the  attributes  of  his 
talents,  imitate  his  errors,  and  imagine  that, 
by  copying  the  blemishes  of  his  conduct, 
they  possess  what  is  illustrious  in  his  mind. 


78 

Such  men  are  incapable  of  appreciating  the 
self-denial  which  Benjamin  West  made  it  a 
duty  to  impose  upon  himself  on  entering 
the  world;  but  those  who  are  truly  conscious 
of  possessing  the  means  of  attracting  the 
admu'ation  of  their  contemporaries  and  pos- 
terity, the  voluntary  abstinence  of  a  youth  of 
genius  will  afford  them  delight  in  the  con- 
templation, even  though  they  may  be  hap- 
pily free  from  the  obligation  of  practising  it 
themselves. 

11.  When  it  was  determined  among  the 
friends  that  Benjamin  West  should  be  allowed 
to  cultivate  the  art  of  painting,  he  went  to 
Lancaster,  but  he  was  hastily  reoBed  by  a 
severe  domestic  misfortune.  His  mother 
was  siezed  by  a  dangerous  illness,  and  being 
conscious  that  she  could  not  live  long,  she 
requested  that  he  might  be  sent  for  home. 
Benjamin  hastily  obeyed  the  summons,  but, 
before  he  reached  the  house,  her  strength 
was  exhausted,  and  she  was  only  able  to 


79 

express   by  her  look  the  satisfaction  with 
which  she  saw  him  approach  the  bed,  before 
she  expired.     Her  funeral,  and  the  distress 
which  the  event  naturally  occasioned  to  her 
family,  by  all  of  whom  she  was  very  tenderly 
beloved,  detained  the  young  artist  some  time 
at  his  father's.     About  the  end  of  August, 
in  17'^6,  however,  he  took  his  final  depar- 
ture, and  went  to  Philadelphia.     But,  before 
proceeding  with  the  narrative  of  his  profes- 
sional career,  it  is  necessary  to  advert  to 
some  of  the  public  transactions  of  that  period, 
by  which  his  sensibility  was  powerfully  ex- 
cited.    Indeed  it  will  appear  throughout  the 
whole  of  these  singular  memoirs,  that  the 
subject  of  them  was,  perhaps,  more  imme- 
diately   affected    by    the    development    of 
national  events,  than  usually  falls  to  the  lot 
of  any  individual  so  little  connected  with 
public  men,  and  so  far  remote  from  the  great 
thoroughfare  of  pohtical  occurrences. 

III.  After  the  destruction  of  general  Bra- 
dock's  army,  the  Pennsylvanians  being  alar- 


80 

med  at  the  defenceless  state  in  which  they 
were  placed  by  that  calamity,  the  assembly 
of  the  province  resolved  to  embody  a  militia 
force;  and  Mr.  Wayne,  who  has  been  already 
mentioned,  was  appointed  colonel  of  the 
regiment  raised  in  Chester  county.  This 
defensive  measm-e  announced  that  the  golden 
age  of  the  country  was  past,  and  the  change 
felt  by  the  peaceful  quakers  indicated  an 
alteration  in  their  harmless  manners.  West, 
among  others,  went  to  view  the  first  muster 
of  the  troops  under  the  command  of  colonel 
Wayne,  and  the  sight  of  men  in  arms,  their 
purpose  and  array,  warmed  his  lively  ima- 
gination vrith  military  enthusiasm.  In  con- 
junction with  a  son  of  the  colonel,  a  boy  of 
his  own  age,  with  whom  he  had  become 
acquainted,  he  procured  a  gun,  and  deter- 
mined also  to  be  a  soldier.  Young  Wayne 
was  drilled  by  the  disciplinarians  of  his  fa- 
ther's corps,  and  he,  in  turn,  exercised  West, 
who,  being  more  alert  and  active,  soon  obtain- 
ed a  decided  superiority;  but  what  different 


81 

destinies  were  attached  to  them!  West  has 
attained,  in  the  intellectual  discipline  of  the 
arts  of  peace,  an  enviable  reputation;  and 
Wayne,  who  was  inferior  to  him  in  the 
manual  of  the  soldier,  became  an  illustrious 
commander,  and  partook,  as  the  companion 
in  arms  of  Washington,  of  the  glory  of 
having  established  the  independence  of 
America. 

IV.  The  martial  preparations  inspired  all 
the  youths  of  Pennsylvania  with  the  love  of 
arms,  and  diffused  the  principles  of  that 
military  spirit  which  was  afterwards  exerted 
with  so  much  effect  against  the  erroneous 
policy  of  the  mother  country.  West,  soon 
after  his  drilling  under  young  Wayne,  visited 
Lancaster;  and  the  boys  of  that  town  having 
formed  themselves  into  a  little  corps,  made 
choice  of  him  for  their  commandant.  Among 
others  who  caught  the  spirit  of  the  time, 
was  his  brother  Samuel,  who  possessed  a 
bold  character  and  an  enterprising  disposi- 


8S 

tion.  He  was  about  six  years  older  than 
the  artist,  and,  being  appointed  a  captain  in 
colonel  Wayne's  regiment,  joined  the  troops 
under  the  command  of  general  Forbes,  who 
was  sent  to  i^epair  the  disasters  which  had 
happened  to  the  unfortunate  Bradock. 

V.  After  the  taking  of  fort  Du-Quesne,  to 
which  the  new  name  of  Pittsburg  was  given, 
m  compliment  to  the  minister  of  the  day, 
general  Forbes  resolved  to  search  for  the 
rehcs  of  Bradock's  ai^my.  As  the  European 
soldiers  were  not  so  well  qualified  to  ex- 
plore the  forests,  captain  West  was  appoin- 
ted, with  his  company  of  American  sharp- 
shooters, to  assist  in  the  execution  of  this 
duty;  and  a  party  of  Indian  warriors,  who 
had  returned  to  the  British  interests,  were 
requested  to  conduct  him  to  the  places  where 
the  bones  of  the  slain  were  likely  to  be  found. 
In  this  solemn  and  affecting  duty  several 
officers  belonging  to  the  forty-second  regi- 
ment accompanied  tlie  detachment,  and  with 


83 

them  major  sir  Peter  Halket,  who  had  lost 
his  father  and  a  brother  in  the  fatal  destruc- 
tion of  the  army.  It  might  have  been 
thought  a  hopeless  task  that  he  should  be 
able  to  discriminate  their  remains  from  the 
common  relics  of  the  other  soldiers;  but  he 
was  induced  to  think  otherwise,  as  one  of 
the  Indian  warriors  assured  him  that  he  had 
seen  an  officer  fall  near  a  remarkable  tree, 
which  he  thought  he  could  still  discover; 
informing  him  at  the  same  time,  that  the 
incident  was  impressed  on  his  memory  by 
observing  a  young  subaltern,  who,  in  run- 
ning to  the  officer's  assistance,  was  also  shot 
dead  on  his  reaching  the  spot,  and  fell 
across  the  other's  body.  The  major  had 
a  mournful  conviction  in  his  own  mind  that 
the  two  officers  were  his  father  and  brother, 
and,  indeed,  it  was  chiefly  owing  to  his 
anxiety  on  the  subject,  that  this  pious  expe- 
dition, the  second  of  the  kind  that  histoiy 
records,  was  undertaken. 


84 

VI.  Captain   West   and   his    companions 
proceeded  through  the  woods  and  along  the 
banks  of  the  river  towards  the  scene  of  the 
battle.     The  Indians  regarded  the  expedition 
as  a  reUgious  ser\1ce,  and  guided  the  troops 
with  awe,  and  in   profound   silence.     The 
soldiers  were  affected  with  sentiments  not 
less   serious;  and    as    they    explored   the 
bewildering  labyrinths  of  those  vast  forests, 
their  hearts  were  often  melted  with  inex- 
pressible sorrow;  for  they  frequently  found 
skeletons  Mng  across  the  trunks  of  fallen 
trees,  a  mournful  proof  to  their  imaginations 
that  the  men  who  sat  there,  had  perished  of 
hunger,  in  vainly  attempting  to  find  their 
way  to  the  plantations.     Sometimes  their 
feelings  were  raised  to  the  utmost  pitch  of 
horror  by  the  sight  of  sculls  and  bones  scat- 
tered on  the  ground — a  certain  indication 
that  the  bodies  had  been  devoured  by  wild 
beasts;  and  in  other  places  they  saw  the 
blackness  of  ashes  amidst  the  relics, — the 
tremendous  evidence  of  atrocious  rites. 


85 

VII.  At  length  they  reached  a  turn  of  the 
river  not  far  from  the  principal  scene  of 
destruction,  and  the  Indian  who  remembered 
the  death  of  the  two  officers,  stopped;  the 
detachment   also  halted.     He  then  looked 
around  in  quest  of  some  object  which  might 
recall,    distinctly,    his    recollection    of  the 
ground,  and  suddenly  darted  into  the  wood. 
The   soldiers    rested    their    arms   without 
speaking.     A  shrill  cry  was  soon  after  heard; 
and  the  other  guides  made  signs  for  the 
troops   to   follow  them  towards  the  spot 
from  which  it  came.     In  the  course  of  a 
short  time  they  reached  the  Indian  warrior, 
who,  by  his  cry,  had  announced  to  his  com- 
panions that  he  had  found  the  place  where 
he  was  posted  on  the  day  of  battle.     As 
the  troops  approached,  he  pointed  to  the  tree 
under  which  the  officers  had  fallen.     Cap- 
tain West  halted  his  men  round  the  spot, 
and  with  sir  Peter  Halket  and  the  other 
officers,  formed  a  circle,  while  the  Indians 
removed  the  leaves  which  thickly  covered 


86 

the  ground.  The  skeletons  were  found,  as 
the  Indian  expected,  lying  across  each 
other.  The  officers  having  looked  at  them 
some  time,  the  major  said,  that  as  his  father 
had  an  artificial  tooth,  he  thought  he  might 
be  able  to  ascertain  if  they  were  indeed  his 
bones  and  those  of  his  brother.  The  In- 
dians  were,  therefore,  ordered  to  remove  the 
skeleton  of  the  youth,  and  to  bring  to  view 
that  of  the  old  officer.  This  was  immedi- 
ately done,  and  after  a  short  examination, 
major  Halket  exclaimed,  "It  is  my  fatheri" 
and  feD  back  into  the  arms  of  his  compa- 
nions. The  pioneers  then  dug  a  grave,  and 
the  bones  being  laid  in  it  together,  a  highland 
plaid  was  spread  over  them,  and  they  were 
interred  with  the  customary  honours. 

VIII.  When  lord  Grosvenor  bought  the 
picture  of  the  death  of  Wolfe,  Mr.  West 
mentioned  to  him  the  finding  of  the  bones 
of  Bradock's  army  as  a  pictorial  subject 
capable  of  being  managed  with  great  effisct. 


97 

The  gloom  of  the  vast  forest,  the  naked  and 
simple  Indians  supporting  the  skeletons,  the 
grief  of  the  son  on  recognising  the  reUcs  of 
his  father,  the  subdued  melancholy  of  the 
spectators,  and  the  picturesque  garb  of  the 
Pennsylvanian  sharpshooters,  undoubtedly 
furnished  topics  capable  of  every  effect  which 
the  pencil  could  bestow,  or  the  imagination 
require  in  the  treatment  of  so  sublime  a 
scene.  His  lordship  admitted,  that  in  pos- 
sessing so  affecting  an  incident  as  the  disco- 
very of  the  bones  of  the  Halkets,  it  was 
superior  even  to  that  of  the  search  for  the 
remains  of  the  army  of  Varus;  the  transac- 
tion, however,  being  little  known,  and  not 
recorded  by  any  historian,  he  thought  it 
would  not  be  interesting  to  the  pubhc.  Other 
engagements  have  since  prevented  Mr.  West 
from  attempting  it  on  his  own  account. 
But  it  is  necessary  that  the  regular  narrative 
should  be  resumed;  for  the  military  liistory 
of  the  artist  terminated  when  he  was  recalled 
home  by  the   last  illness  of  his   mother, 


88 

although  the  excitement  which  the  events 
that  led  to  it  occasioned  never  lost  its  influ- 
ence on  his  mind,  especially  that  of  the 
incident  wliich  has  been  described,  and  which 
has  ever  been  present  to  his  imagination 
as  one  of  the  most  affecting  occurrences, 
whether  considered  with  respect  to  the 
feelings  of  the  gentlemen  most  immediately 
interested  in  it,  or  with  respect  to  the  wild 
and  solemn  circumstances  under  which  the 
service  was  performed. 

IX.  On  his  return  to  Pliiladelpliia,  he  again 
resided  with  Mr.  Clarkson,  his  brother-in- 
law;  and  provost  Smith,  in  the  evenings, 
continued  to  direct  his  attention  to  those 
topics  of  literature  which  were  most  suitable 
to  cherish  the  expansion  of  liis  mind,  and  to 
enrich  his  imagination  with  ideas  useful  to 
his  profession.  Wliile  liis  leisure  lioui-s 
were  thus  profitably  employed,  his  reputation 
as  a  portrait  painter  was  rapidly  extended. 
His  youth,  and  the  peculiar  incidents  of  his 


89 

history,  attracted  many  sitters,  and  his  merits 
verified  the  recommendations  of  Ms  fiiends. 
This  constancy  of  employment,  no  doubt 
materially  tended  to  his  improvement  in  the 
manipulation  of  liis  art;  for,  whatever  may 
be  the  native  force  of  talent,  it  is  impossible 
that  the  possessor  can  attain  excellence  by 
any  other  means  than  practice.  Facility  to 
express  the  conceptions  of  the  mind  must 
be  acquu^ed  before  the  pen  or  the  pencil  can 
embody  them  appropriately,  and  the  author 
who  does  not  execute  much,  however  little 
he  may  exhibit,  can  never  expect  to  do 
justice  to  the  truth  and  beauty  of  his  own 
ideas.  West  was  very  soon  duly  impressed 
with  the  justness  of  this  observation;  and, 
while  in  the  execution  of  his  portraits,  he 
was  assiduous  to  acquire  a  ready  knowledge 
of  those  characteristic  traits  wliich  have  since 
enabled  him  to  throw  so  much  variety  into 
his  compositions;  he  felt  conscious  that,  with- 
out seeing  better  pictures  than  his  own,  he 
could  neither  ho])e  to  attain  distinction,  nor 

M 


90 

to  appreciate  his  own  peculiar  powers.  It 
was  this  consideration  that  induced  hini  to 
adopt  a  most  rigid  system  of  fiTigality.  He 
looked  forward  to  a  period  when  he  might 
be  enabled,  by  the  fruits  of  his  own  industiy, 
to  visit  the  great  scenes  of  the  fine  ails  in 
Europe;  and  the  care  wth  which  he  trea- 
sured the  money  that  he  received  for  his 
portraits  was  rewarded  even  at  the  time 
with  the  assurance  of  realizing  his  expecta- 
tions. The  prices  which  he  fii-st  fixed  for 
his  portraits,  were  two  guineas  and  a  half  for 
a  head,  and  five  guineas  for  a  half  length. 

X.  After  what  has  already  been  men- 
tioned of  the  state  of  society  in  Pennsylvania, 
it  is  needless  to  say  that  at  the  period  to 
which  these  memoirs  refer,  there  were  but 
few  pictures  in  the  British  plantations;  indeed, 
without  any  other  explanation,  all  tliat  should 
be  contended  for  by  any  person  who  might 
imagine  it  necessary  to  advocate  the  preten- 
sions of  Benjamin  West  to  be  placed  in  the 


91 

list  of  original  and  self-instructed  artists, 
would  be  readily  granted,  upon  stating  the 
single  fact,  that  he  was  born  in  Pennsylvania, 
and  did  not  leave  America  till  the  year  1760. 
At  the  same  time,  it  might  be  construed  into 
an  injudicious  concealment,  if  it  were  not 
mentioned,  that  governor  Hamilton,  who,  at 
that  period,  presided  with  so  much  popularity 
over  the  affairs  of  the  province,  possessed  a 
few  pictures,  consisting,  however,  chiefly  of 
family  portraits.  Among  them  was  a  St. 
Ignatius,  which  was  found  in  the  course  of 
the  preceding  war  on  board  a  Spanish  prize, 
and  which  Mr.  Pennington  obtained  leave 
for  West  to  copy.  Tlje  artist  had  made 
choice  of  it  liimself  without  being  aware  of 
its  merits  as  a  work  of  art,  for  it  was  not 
until  several  years  after  that  he  discovered  it 
to  be  a  fine  piece  of  the  Morillo  school,  and 
in  the  best  style  of  the  master. 

XI.  This  copy  was  greatly  admired  by  all 
who  saw  it.  and  by  none  more  than  his 


92 

valuable  friend  provost  Smith,  to  whom  it 
suggested  the  notion  that  portrait-painting 
might  be  raised  to  something  greatly  above 
the  exhibition  of  a  mere  physical  likeness; 
and  he  in  consequence  endeavoured  to  im- 
press upon  the  mind  of  his  pupil,  that  cha- 
racteristic painting  opened  a  new  line  in  the 
art,  only  inferior  in  dignity  to  that  of  history, 
but  requiring,  perhaps,  a  nicer  discriminative 
tact  of  mind.     This  judicious  reflection  of 
Dr.  Smith  was  however  anticipated  by  sir 
Joshua  Reynolds,  who  had  already  made  the 
discovery,   and  was  carrying  it  into  effect 
with  admirable  success.     The  provost,  how- 
ever, was   unacquainted  with   that  circum- 
stance, and  induced  West  to  make  an  expe- 
riment by  di'awing  his  portrait  in  the  style 
and  attitude  of  the  St.  Ignatius. 

Xn.  While  he  was  thus  employed  on  por- 
traits, a  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Cox  called 
on  him  to  agree  for  a  likeness  of  his  daugh- 
ter; and  the  picture  of  Dr.  Smith  attracted  his 


93 

attention.  It  indeed  appeared  to  him  to  evince 
such  a  capacity  for  historical  composition, 
that,  instead  of  then  determining  any  thing 
respecting  his  daughter's  portrait,  he  gave 
an  order  for  an  historical  picture,  allowing 
the  artist  himself  to  choose  the  subject.  This 
task  had  peculiar  charms;  for  the  painter  in 
the  course  of  reading  the  Bible  to  his 
mother  some  time  before,  had  been  led  to 
think  that  the  trial  of  Susannah  v^as  a  fine 
subject;  and  he  vsras  thus  enabled,  by  the 
liberality  of  Mr.  Cox,  to  embody  the  concep- 
tions of  his  imagination  w^hile  they  were  yet 
in  all  the  freshness  and  vigour  of  original 
formation.  He  made  his  canvas  alx)ut  the 
size  of  a  half  length  portrait,  on  which  he 
introduced  not  fewer  than  forty  figures. 
In  the  execution  he  followed  the  rule  which 
he  had  adopted  in  painting  the  death  of 
Socrates,  and  drew  the  principal  figures 
from  living  models. — It  is  not  known  what 
has  become  of  the  trial  of  Susannah.  In  the 
rebellion  of  the  colonies,  Mr.  Cox  adhered 


94 

to  the  British  interest;  and  his  daughter, 
the  last  person  into  whose  possession  the 
picture  has  been  traced,  having  married  a 
British  officer,  came  to  England  during  the 
war,  and  the  artist  has  not  heard  where  she 
has  since  resided. 

Xin.  In  point  of  composition,  Mr.  West 
is  of  opinion  that  the  trial  of  Susannah  was 
superior  to  the  death  of  Socrates.  In  this 
he  is  probably  correct;  for,  during  the  inter- 
val between  the  execution  of  the  one  and  the 
other,  his  mind  had  been  enlarged  in  know- 
ledge by  reading,  his  eye  improved  by  the 
study  of  pictorial  outUne  and  perspective  in 
the  camera^  and  his  touch  softened  by  the 
portraits  which  he  painted,  and  particularly 
by  his  careM  copy  of  the  St.  Ignatius.  In 
point  of  drawing,  both  pictures  were  no  doubt 
gready  inferior  to  many  of  his  subsequent 
works;  but  his  son,  long  after  he  had  ac- 
quired much  celebrity,  saw  the  picture  of 
the  death  of  Socrates,  and  was  of  opinion 


95 


that  it  was  not  suiT)assed  by  any  of  them  in 
variety  of  composition,  and  in  that  perspi-"^ 
cuity  of  narrative  wliich  is  the  gi^and  charac- 
teristic of  the  artist's  genius. 


CHAPTER  V. 


I.  Motives  which  induced  him  to  visit  New  York.  II.  State  of  society 
in  New  York.  III.  Reflections  on  the  sterilitj  of  Ameriean  talent. 
IV.  Considerations  on  the  circamstances  which  tend  to  produce  poeti- 
cal feelings.  V.  The  causes  which  produced  the  peculiarities  in  the 
state  of  society  in  New  York.  YI.  The  accident  which  led  the  artist 
to  discover  the  method  of  colouring  candle-light  and  fire  effects  after 
nature.  VII.  He  copies  Strange's  engraving  of  Belisarius,  by  SaWator 
Rosa.  VIII.  The  occurrence  which  hastened  his  voyage  to  Italy,  with 
the  anecdote  of  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Kelly.  IX.  Reflections  on 
Plutarch,  occasioned  by  reference  to  the  effect  which  his  works  had  on 
the  mind  of  West.  X.  The  artist  embarks;  occurrence  at  Gibraltar. 
XI.  He  arrives  at  Leghorn.     XII.  Journey  to  Rome. 


I.  But  although  West  found  himself 
in  possession  of  abundant  employment  in 
Philadelphia,  he  was  sensible  that  he  could 
not  expect  to  increase  his  prices  with  effect, 
if  he  continued  constantly  in  the  same  place. 
He  also  became  sensible  that  to  view  life  in 
various  Ughts  was  as  necessary  to  his  im- 
provement as  to  exercise  his  pencil  on 
different  subjects.  And,  beyond  all,  he  was 
profoundly  sensible,  by  this  time,  that  he 


97 

could  not  hope  to  attain  eminence  in  his 
profession,  without  inspecting  the  great  mas- 
ter-pieces of  art  in  Europe,  and  comparing 
them  with  his  own  works  in  order  to  ascer- 
tain the  extent  of  his  powers.  This  pliilo- 
sophical  view  of  his  situation  was  doubtless 
partly  owing  to  the  excellent  precepts  of 
provost  Smith,  but  mainly  to  his  own  just 
perception  of  what  was  necessary  to  the 
successful  career  of  an  artist:  indeed  the 
principle  upon  which  the  notion  was  formed 
is  universal,  and  applies  to  all  intellectual 
pursuits.  Accordingly,  impressed  with  these 
considerations,  he  frugally  treasured  the 
earnings  of  his  pencil,  that  he  might  under- 
take, in  the  first  place,  a  professional  jour- 
ney from  Philadelphia,  as  preparatory  to 
acquiring  the  means  of  afterwards  visiting 
Europe,  and  particularly  Rome.  When  he 
found  that  the  state  of  his  funds  enabled  him 
to  undertake  the  journey,  he  went  to  New 
York. 

N 


OS 

II.  The  society  of  New  York  was  much 
less  intelligent  in  matters  of  taste  and  know- 
ledge than  that  of  Philadelphia.  In  the  latter 
city  the  institutions  of  the  college  and  library, 
and  the  strict  moral  and  poUtical  respecta- 
bility of  the  first  settlers,  had  contributed  to 
form  a  community,  which,  though  inferior  in 
the  elegancies  of  Uving,  and  the  etiquettes  of 
intercourse,  to  what  is  commonly  found  in 
the  European  capitals,  was  little  beliind  them 
in. point  of  practical  and  historical  informa- 
tion. Dr.  Smith,  the  provost  of  the  coUege, 
had  largely  contributed  to  elevate  the  taste, 
the  sentiment  and  the  topics  of  conversation 
in  Philadelpliia.  He  was  full  of  the  best  spuit 
of  antiquity,  and  there  was  a  classical  purity 
of  mind  and  splendour  of  imagination  some- 
times met  with  in  the  families  which  he 
frequented,  that  would  have  done  honour  to 
the  best  periods  of  polished  society. 

ni.  It  would  be  difficult  to  assign  any 
reason  why  it  has   so   happened   that,  no 


99 

literary  author  of  any  general  celebrity, 
with  the  exception  of  Franklin,  has  yet 
arisen  in  America.  That  men  of  learning 
and  extensive  reading,  capable  of  vying 
with  the  same  description  of  persons  in 
Europe,  are  to  be  found  in  the  United  States, 
particularly  in  Philadelphia,  is  not  to  be 
denied;  but  of  that  class,  whose  talents  tend 
to  augment  the  stock  of  intellectual  enjoy 
ment  in  the  world,  no  one,  with  the  single  ex- 
ception already  alluded  to,  has  yet  appeared. 

IV.  Poetry  is  the  art  of  connecting  ideas 
of  sensible  objects  with  moral  sentiments; 
and  without  the  previous  existence  of  local 
feelings,  there  can  be  no  poetry.  America 
to  the  first  European  settlers  had  no  objects 
interesting  to  the  imagination,  at  least  of 
the  description  thus  strictly  considered  as 
poetical;  for  although  the  vigour  and  stupen- 
dous appearances  of  nature  were  calculated 
to  fill  the  mind  with  awe,  and  to  exalt  the 
contemplations  of   enthusiasm,   there    was 


100 

nothing  connected  with  the  circumstances  of 
the  scene  susceptible  of  that  colouring  from 
the  memory,  which  gives  to  the  ideas  of  local 
resemblance  the  pecuhar  quaUties  of  poetry. 
The  forests,  though  interminable,  were  but 
composed  of  trees;  the  mountains  and  rivers, 
though  on  a  larger  scale,  were  not  associated 
in  the  mind  with  the  exertions  of  patriotic 
valour,  and  the  achievements  of  individual 
enterprise,  Uke  the  Alps  or  the  Danube,  the 
Grampians  or  the  Tweed.  It  is  impossible 
to  tread  the  depopulated  and  exhausted  soil 
of  Greece  \vithout  meeting  with  innumer- 
able relics  and  objects,  which,  like  magical 
talismans,  call  up  the  genius  of  departed  ages 
with  the  long-enriched  roll  of  those  great 
transactions,  that,  in  theu'  moral  effect,  have 
raised  the  nature  of  man,  occasioning  trains 
of  reflection  which  want  only  the  rythm  of 
language  to  be  poetry.  But  in  the  unstoried 
sohtudes  of  America,  the  traveller  meets  witli 
nothing  to  awaken  the  sympathy  of  his  re- 
coUective  feelings.    Even  the  very  character 


101 

of  the  trees,  though  interesting  to  scientific 
research,  chills,  beneath  the  spaciousness 
of  their  shade,  every  poetical  disposition. 
They  bear  little  resemblance  to  those  which 
the  stranger  has  left  behind  in  his  native 
country.  To  tlie  descendants  of  the  first 
settlers,  they  wanted  even  the  charm  of  those 
accidental  associations  which  their  appear- 
ance might  have  recalled  to  the  minds  of 
their  father.  Poetry  is,  doubtless,  the  first  ^, 
of  the  intellectual  arts  wliich  mankind  culti- 
vate. In  its  earliest  form  it  is  the  mode  of 
expressing  affection  and  admiration;  but, 
before  it  can  be  invented,  there  must  be 
objects  beloved  and  admired,  associated  with 
things  in  nature  endowed  with  a  local  habi- 
tation and  a  name.  In  America,  therefore, 
although  there  has  been  no  lack  of  clever 
versifiers,  nor  of  men  who  have  respect- 
ably echoed  the  ideas  current  in  the  old 
world,  the  country  has  produced  nothing 
of  any  value  descriptive  of  the  peculiar  • 
associations    connected  vrtth    its    scenery. 


Among  some  of  the  Indian  tribes  a  vein  of 
original  poetry  has,  indeed,  been  discovered; 
but  the  riches  of  the  mine  are  unexplored, 
and  the  charge  of  steriUty  of  fancy,  which 
is  made  by  the  Europeans  against  the 
citizens  of  the  United  States,  still  remains 
unrefuted.  Since  the  period,  however,  to 
which  these  memoirs  chiefly  refer,  events 
of  great  importance  have  occurred,  and  the 
recollections  connected  with  them,  no  doubt, 
tend  to  imbue  the  American  cUmate  with 
the  elements  of  poetical  thought;  but  they  are 
of  too  recent  occurrence  for  the  purposes 
either  of  the  epic  or  the  tragic  muse.  The 
facts  of  history  in  America  are  stiD  seen  too 
much  in  detail  for  the  imagination  to  com- 
bine them  with  her  own  creation.  The 
fields  of  battle  are  almost  too  fresh  for  the 
farmer  to  break  the  surface;  and  years  must 
elapse  before  the  ploughshare  shall  turn  up 
those  eroded  arms  of  which  the  sight  will 
call  into  poetical  existence  the  sad  and  dread- 
ful incidents  of  the  civil  war. 


103 

V.  In  New  York,  Mr.  West  found  the  so- 
ciety wholly  devoted  to  mercantile  pursuits. 
A  disposition  to  estimate  the  value  of  things, 
not  by  their  utility  or  by  their  beauty,  but  by  * 
the  price  which  they  would  bring  in  the  mar- 
ket, almost  universally  prevailed.  Mercan- 
tile men  are  habituated  by  the  nature  of 
their  transactions  to  overlook  the  intrinsic 
qualities  of  the  very  commodities  in  wliich 
they  deal;  and  though  of  all  the  community 
they  are  the  most  liberal  and  the  most  mu- 
nificent, they  set  the  least  value  on  intellec- 
tual productions.  The  population  of  New 
York  was  formed  of  adventurers  from  all 
parts  of  Europe,  who  had  come  thither  for 
tlie  express  puipose  of  making  money,  in 
order,  afterwards,  to  appear  with  distinction 
at  home.  Although  West,  therefore,  found 
in  that  city  much  employment  in  taking 
likenesses  destined  to  be  transmitted  to  rela- 
tions and  friends,  he  met  with  but  few  in 
whom  he  found  any  disposition  congenial  to 
his  own;  and  the  eleven  months  which  he 


104 

passed  there,  in  consequence,  contributed 
less  to  the  improvement  of  liis  mind  than 
might  have  been  expected  from  a  city  so 
flouiishing.  Still,  the  time  was  not  alto- 
gether barren  of  occurrences  which  tended 
to  advance  liis  progress  in  his  art,  indepen- 
dent of  the  advantage  arising  fi^om  constant 
practice. 

VI.  He  happened,  during  his  residence 
there,  to  see  a  beautiful  Flemish  picture  of 
a  hermit  praying  before  a  lamp,  and  he  was 
resolved  to  paint  a  companion  to  it,  of  a 
man  reading  by  candle  Ught.  But  before  he 
discovered  a  method  of  producing,  in  day 
light,  an  effect  on  Ms  model  similar  to  what 
he  wished  to  imitate,  he  was  frequently 
baffled  in  liis  attempts.  At  length,  he  hit  on 
the  expedient  of  pei^uading  his  landlord  to 
sit  with  an  open  book  before  a  candle  in 
a  dark  closet;  and  he  found  that,  by  looking 
in  upon  him  from  his  study,  the  appearance 
was  exactly  what  he  wished   for.     In  the 


105 

schools  and  academies  of  Europe,  tradition 
has  preserved  the  methods  by  which  all  the 
magical  effects  of  light  and  shadow  have 
been  produced,  with  the  exception,  however, 
of  Rembrandt's  method,  and  which  the 
author  of  these  sketches  ventures  to  suggest 
was  attained,  in  general,  by  observing  the 
effect  of  sunshine  passing  through  chinks 
into  a  dark  room.  But  the  American  artist 
was  as  yet  unacquainted  with  any  of  them, 
and  had  no  other  guides  to  the  essential 
principles  of  his  art,  but  the  delicacy  of  his 
sight,  and  that  ingenious  observation  of 
nature  to  which  allusion  has  been  already 
so  often  made. 

VII.  The  picture  of  the  student,  or  man 
reading  by  candle  light,  was  bought  by  a  Mr. 
Myers,  who,  in  the  revolution,  continued  to 
adhere  to  the  Enghsh  cause.  The  same 
gentleman  also  bought  a  copy  which  West 
made  about  the  same  time  of  Behsarius, 
from  the  engraving  by  Strange,  of  Salvator 


106 

Rosa's  painting.  It  is  not  known  what  has 
now  become  of  these  pictures;  but  when 
the  artist  long  afterwards  saw  the  original 
of  Salvator  Rosa,  he  was  gratified  to  observe 
that  he  had  instinctively  coloured  his  copy 
almost  as  faithfully  as  if  it  had  been  painted 
from  the  picture  instead  of  the  engraving. 

VIII.  In  the  year  1759,  the  harvest  in 
Italy  fell  far  short  of  what  was  requisite  for 
the  ordinary  consumption  of  the  population, 
and  a  great  dearth  being  foreseen,  Messrs. 
Rutherford  and  Jackson,  of  Leghorn,  a  house 
of  the  first  consequence  then  in  the  Me- 
diterranean trade,  and  well  known  to  all 
travellers  for  the  hospitahty  of  the  partners, 
wrote  to  their  coiTespondent  Mr.  Allen,  at 
Philadelphia,  to  send  them  a  cargo  of  wheat 
and  flour.  Mr.  Allen  was  anxious  that  his 
son,  before  finally  embarking  in  business, 
should  see  sometliing  of  the  world;  and 
provost  Smith,  hearing  Ms  intention  of 
sending  him  to  Leghorn  with  the  vessel,  im- 


107 

mediately  waited  on  the  old  gentleman,  and 
begged  Mm  to  allow  West  to  accompany 
him,  which  was  cheerfully  acceded  to,  and 
the  provost  immediately  wrote  to  his  pupil 
at  New  York  on  the  subject.  In  the  mean 
time,  West  had  heard  that  there  was  a  ves- 
sel at  Philadelphia  loading  for  Italy,  and  had 
expressed  to  Mr.  William  Kelly,  a  merchant, 
who  was  then  sitting  to  him  for  his  portrait, 
a  strong  desire  to  avail  himself  of  this 
opportunity  to  visit  the  fountain-head  of 
the  arts.  Before  this  period,  he  had  raised 
his  terms  for  a  half  length  to  ten  guineas,  by 
which  he  acquired  a  sum  of  money  adequate 
to  the  expenses  of  a  short  excursion  to  Italy. 
When  he  had  finished  Mr.  Kelly's  portrait, 
that  gentleman,  in  paying  him,  requested 
that  he  would  take  charge  of  a  letter  to 
his  agents  in  Philadelpliia,  and  deUver  it  to 
them  liimself  on  his  return  to  that  city, 
wliich  he  was  induced  to  do  immediately,  on 
receiving  Dr.  Smith's  letter,  informing  liim 
of  the  arrangement  made  with  Mr.  Allen. 


i08 

When  this  letter  was  opened,  an  instance 
of  deUcate  munificence  appeared  on  the 
part  of  Mr.  Kelly,  which  cannot  be  too 
higlily  applauded.  It  stated  to  the  concern 
to  whicli  it  was  addi^essed,  that  it  would  be 
delivered  by  an  ingenious  young  gentleman, 
who,  he  understood,  intended  to  visit  Rome 
for  the  purpose  of  studying  the  fine  arts,  and 
ordered  them  to  pay  him  fifty  guineas  as  a 
present  from  him  towards  furnishing  his 
stores  for  tlie  voyage. 

IX.  While  waiting  till  the  vessel  was  clear 
to  sail.  West  had  the  gi'atification  to  see,  in 
Philadelphia,  his  old  friend  Mr.  Henry,  for 
whom  he  had  painted  the  death  of  Socrates. 
Towards  him  he  always  cherished  the  most 
grateful  affection.  He  was  the  first  who  urged 
him  to  attempt  liistorical  composition;  and, 
above  all,  he  was  the  first  who  had  made  him 
acquainted  with  the  magnanimous  tales  of 
Plutarch;  perhaps,  the  gi'eatest  favour  which 
could  be  conferred  on  a  youthful  mind,  sus- 


109        ^ 

ceptible  of  impressions  from  the  sublime  and 
beautiful  of  human  actions,  which  no  author 
has  better  illustrated  than  that  celebrated 
biographer,  who  may  indeed  be  regarded, 
almost  without  hyperbole,  as  the  recorder 
of  ancient  worth,  and  the  tutor  of  modern 
genius.  In  his  peculiar  class,  Plutarch  still 
stands  alone,  at  least  no  author  in  any  of  the 
living  languages  appears  to  be  yet  truly  sen- 
sible of  the  secret  cause  by  which  his  sketches 
give  that  direct  impulse  to  the  elements  of 
genius,  by  which  the  vague  and  wandeiing 
feelings  of  unappropriated  strength  are  con- 
verted into  an  uniform  energy,  endowed  with 
productive  action.  Plutarch,  like  the  sculp- 
tors  of  antiquity,  has  selected  only  the  great 
and  elegant  traits  of  character;  and  hence  his 
lives,  like  those  statues  which  are  the  models 
of  art,  possess,  with  all  that  is  graceful  and 
noble  in  human  nature,  the  particular  features 
of  individuals.  He  had  no  taste  for  the 
blemishes  of  mankind.  His  mind  deUghted 
in  the  contemplation  of  moral  vigour;  and 


liO 

he  seems  justly  to  have  thought  that  it  was 
nearly  allied  to  virtue:  hence  many  of  those 
characters  whose  portraitures  in  his  works 
furnish  the  youthful  mind  wth  inspiring  ex- 
amples of  true  greatness,  more  authentic  his- 
torians represent  in  a  light  far  different.  It 
V  is  the  aim  of  all  dignified  art  to  exalt  the 
mind  by  exciting  the  feelings  as  well  as  the 
judgment;  and  the  immoital  lessons  of  Plu- 
tarch would  never  have  awakened  the  first 
stinings  of  ambition  in  the  innumerable  great 
men  who  date  their  career  from  reading  his 
pages,  had  he  been  actuated  by  the  minute 
and  invidious  spirit  of  modern  biography. 
These  reflections  have  occurred  the  more 
forcibly  at  this  juncture,  as  the  subject  of  this 
narrative  was  on  the  point  of  leaving  a  coun- 
try in  wliich  were  men  destined  to  acquire 
glory  in  such  achievements  as  Plutarch  would 
have  delighted  to  record;  and  of  parting 
fi'om  early  associates  who  afterwards  attained 
a  degree  of  eminence  in  the  public  service, 
that  places  them  high  in  the  roll  of  thos8 


Ill 

who  have  emulated  the  exploits  and  vii'tues 
of  the  heroes  of  that  great  biogi'apher. 

X.  The  artist  having  embarked  with  young 
Allen  had  a  speedy  and  pleasant  passage  to 
Gibraltar;  where,  in  consequence  of  the  war 
then  raging,  the  ship  stopped  for  convoy.  As 
soon  as  they  came  to  anchor,  commodore 
Carney  and  another  officer  came  on  board 
to  examine  the  vessel's  papers.  It  happened 
that  some  time  before,  the  British  government 
had,  on  account  of  political  circumstances, 
prohibited  the  carrying  of  pro\1sions  into 
Italy,  by  which  prohibition  the  ship  and  cargo 
would  have  been  forfeited  had  she  been 
arrested  in  attempting  to  enter  an  ItaUan 
port,  or,  indeed,  m  proceeding  with  such  an 
intention.  But  captain  Carney  had  scarcely 
taken  his  pen  to  write  the  replies  to  the 
questions  which  he  put  to  the  master,  as  to 
the  owners  of  the  vessel  and  her  destination, 
when  he  again  threw  it  down,  and,  looking 
the  other  officer  full  in  the  face,  said,  "  I  am 


at 

much  affected  by  the  situation  in  which  I  am 
now  placed.  This  valuable  sliip  is  the  pro- 
perty of  some  of  my  nearest  relations,  and 
the  best  friends  that  I  have  ever  had  in  the 
world! ' '  and  he  refrained  from  asking  any  more 
questions.  There  was,  undoubtedly,  much 
generosity  in  this  conduct,  for  by  the  indul- 
gence of  the  crown,  all  prizes  taken  in  war  be- 
came the  property  of  the  captors;  and  captain 
Carney,  rather  than  enrich  himself  at  the 
expense  of  his  fiiends,  chose  to  run  the  hazard 
of  having  his  own  conduct  called  in  question 
for  the  non-performance  of  his  official  duty. 
It  perhaps  deserves  also  to  be  considered  as 
affording  a  favourable  example  of  that  manly 
confidence  in  the  gentlemanly  honour  of  each 
other  which  has  so  long  distinguished  the 
British  officers.  On  the  mind  of  West  it 
tended  to  con&^m  that  agreeable  impression 
by  which  so  many  previous  incidents  had 
made  Mm  cherish  a  Uberal  opinion  of  man- 
kind. In  other  respects,  captain  Carney 
happening  to  be  the  officer  who  came  on 


113 

board,  was  a  fortunate  circumstance;  for  on 
learning  that  young  Alien  was  in  the  ship, 
he  invited  the  passengers  to  dine  on  board 
his  frigate;  and  the  company,  consisting  of 
the  governor,  his  staff,  and  principal  officers 
in  the  garrison,  tended  to  raise  the  consid- 
eration of  the  artist  and  his  companion  in 
the  estimation  of  the  fleet  with  wliich  their 
vessel  was  to  proceed  to  Leghorn.     Indeed, 
throughout  his  whole  Ufe,  Mr.  West  was,  in 
this  respect,  singularly  fortunate;  for  although 
the  condescensions  of  rank  do  not  in  them- 
selves confer  any  power  on  talent,  they  have 
the  effect  of  producing  that  complacency  of 
mind  in  those  who  are  the  objects  of  them, 
which  is  at  once  the  reward  and  the  solace 
of  intellectual  exertion,  at  the  same  time  that 
they  tend  to  mollify  the  spirit  of  contempo- 
rary  invidiousness.    The  day  after,  the  fleet 
sailed;  and  when  they  had  passed  the  rock, 
the  captains  of  the  two  men  of  war*  who 

*  The  two  frigates,  the  Shannon,  captain  Meadow,  since 
lord  Manvers,  wliose  intimacy  still  continues  with  Mr.  West; 
and  the  Favourite  sloop  of  war,  captain  Pownell. 

P 


114 

had  charge  of  the  convoy,  came  on  board  the 
American,  and  imited  Mr.  Allen  and  Mr. 
West  to  take  tlieu-  passage  in  one  of  the 
frigates;  tliis,  however,  they  declined,  but 
every  day,  when  the  weather  was  favom^able, 
they  were  taken  on  boai'd  the  one  ship  or 
the  other,  to  dine;  and  when  the  weather  did 
not  permit  tliis  to  be  done  Avith  pleasure  to 
the  strangers,  the  officers  sent  them  presents 
from  then-  stock. 

XL  After  touching  at  several  parts  of  the 
coast  of  Spain,  the  ship  arrived  safely  at  Leg- 
horn, where  mercantile  inquiiies  detained 
Mr.  AHen  some  time,  and  West  being  impa- 
tient to  proceed  to  Rome,  bade  him  adieu. 
Prior  to  his  departure  from  Philadelphia,  he 
had  paid  into  the  hands  of  old  Mr.  Allen  the 
money  which  he  thought  would  be  requisite 
for  his  expenses  in  Italy,  and  had  received 
from  him  a  letter  of  credit  on  Messrs.  Jack- 
son and  Rutherford.  When  they  were  made 
acquainted  with  the  object  of  his  voyage, 


115 

and  heard  his  history,  they  showed  him  a 
degree  of  attention  beyond  even  their  general 
great  hospitality,  and  presented  him  with 
letters  to  cardinal  Albani,  and  several  of  the 
most  distinguished  characters  for  erudition 
and  taste  in  Rome;  and  as  he  was  unac- 
quainted with  French  or  Italian,  they  recom- 
mended him  to  the  care  of  a  French  courier, 
who  had  occasion  to  pass  that  way. 

XII.  When  the  travellers  had  reached  the 
last  stage  of  their  journey,  while  their  horses 
were  baiting,  West  walked  on  alone.  It  was 
a  beautiful  morning;  the  air  was  perfectly 
placid,  not  a  speck  of  vapour  in  the  sky,  and  a 
profound  tranquilUty  seemed  almost  sensibly 
diffused  over  the  landscape.  The  appearance 
of  nature  was  calculated  to  lighten  and 
elevate  the  spirits;  but  the  general  silence 
and  nakedness  of  the  scene  touched  the 
feelings  with  solemnity  approaching  to  awe. 
Filled  with  the  idea  of  the  metropolitan  city, 
the  ailist  hastened  forward  till  he  reached 


416 

an  elevated  part  of  the  high  road,  which 
afforded  him  a  view  of  a  spacious  champaign 
country,  bounded  by  hills,  and  in  the  midst 
of  it  the  sublime  dome  of  St.  Peter's.  The 
magnificence  of  this  view  of  the  campagna 
excited,  in  his  imagination,  an  agitated  train 
of  reflections  that  partook  more  of  the 
nature  of  feeling  than  of  thought.  He  looked 
for  a  spot  to  rest  on,  that  he  might  contem- 
plate at  leisure  a  scene  at  once  so  noble  and 
so  interesting;  and,  near  a  pile  of  nuns 
fringed  and  treUissed  with  ivy,  he  saw  a 
stone  that  appeared  to  be  part  of  a  column. 
On  going  towards  it,  he  perceived  that  it  was 
a  mile-stone,  and  that  he  was  then  only  eight 
miles  fi-om  the  capitol.  In  looking  before 
him,  where  every  object  seemed  by  the 
transparency  of  the  Italian  atmosphere  to 
be  brought  nearer  than  it  was  in  reality,  he 
could  not  but  reflect  on  the  contrast  between 
the  circumstances  of  that  view  and  the 
scenery  of  America;  and  his  thoughts  natu- 
rally adverted  to  the  progi'ess  of  civilization. 


iir 

The  sun  seemed,  to  his  fancy,  the  image  of 
truth  and  knowledge,  arising  in  the  east, 
continuing  to  illuminate  and  adorn  the  whole 
earth,  and  withdra\ving  from  the  eyes  of  the 
old  world  to  enlighten  the  uncultivated 
regions  of  the  new.  He  thought  of  that 
remote  antiquity  when  the  site  of  Rome 
itself  was  covered  with  unexplored  forests; 
and  passing  with  a  rapid  reminiscence  over 
her  eventful  story,  he  was  touched  with 
sorrow  at  the  soUtude  of  decay  with  which 
she  appeared  to  be  envii'oned,  till  he  adverted 
to  the  condition  of  his  native  countiy,  and 
was  cheered  by  the  thought  of  the  greatness 
wliich  even  the  fate  of  Rome  seemed  to 
assure  to  America.  For  he  reflected  that, 
although  the  progress  of  knowledge  appeared 
to  intimate  that  there  was  some  great  cycle 
in  human  affairs,  and  that  the  procession  of 
the  arts  and  sciences  from  the  east  to  the 
west  demonstrated  their  course  to  be  neither 
stationary  nor  retrograde;  he  could  not  but 


\^ 


118 

rejoice,  in  contemplating  the  skeleton  of  the 
mighty  capital  before  him,  that  tliey  had 
improved  as  they  advanced,  and  that  the 
splendour  wliich  would  precede  their  setting 
on  the  shores  of  Europe,  would  be  the  gor- 
geous omen  of  the  glory  which  they  would 
attain  in  their  passage  over  America. 

Xin.  Wliile  he  was  rapt  in  these  reflec- 
tions, he  heard  the  di^owsy  tinkle  of  a  pastoral 
bell  beliind  liim,  and  on  tm^ning  round,  he 
saw  a  peasant  dressed  in  shaggy  skins, 
driving  a  few  goats  from  the  ruins.  The 
appeamnce  and  physiognomy  of  tliis  peasant 
struck  him  as  something  more  wild  and 
ferocious  than  any  thing  about  the  Indians; 
and,  perhaps,  the  observation  was  correctly 
philosophical.  In  the  Indian,  nature  is  seen 
in  that  primitive  vigour  and  simphcity,  in 
which  the  actions  are  regulated  by  those 
feeUngs  that  are  the  elements  of  the  virtues; 
but  in  the  ItaUan  bandit,  for  such  he  had 


119 

reason  afterwards  to  think  was  the  real 
character  of  the  goat-herd,  he  saw  man  in 
that  second  state  of  barbarity,  in  which  his 
actions  are  instigated  by  wants  that  have 
often  a  vicious  origin. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


I.  State  of  the  stationary  society  of  Rome.  II.  Caases  which  rendered 
the  city  a  delightful  temporary  residence.  III.  Defects  of  the 
academical  methods  of  study.  IV.  His  intioductlon  to  Mr.  Ro- 
binson. V.  Anecdote  of  cardinal  Albani.  VI-  The  cardinal's 
method  of  finding  resemblances,  and  curious  mistake  of  the  Italians. 
yil.  The  artist's  first  visit  to  the  works  of  art. 


I.  During  the  pontificate  of  pope  Rez- 
zonico,  the  society  of  Rome  had  attained  a 
pitch  of  elegance  and  aUberaUty  of  sentiment 
superior  to  that  of  any  other  city  of  Christen- 
dom. The  theocratic  nature  of  the  govern- 
ment induced  an  exterior  decorum  in  the 
pubUc  form  of  politeness,  which,  to  sti^angers 
who  took  no  interest  in  the  abuses  of  the 
state,  was  so  highly  agreeable,  that  it  tended 
even  to  appease  theii'  indignation  against  the 
laxity  of  private  morals.  If  the  traveller 
would  forget  that  the  name  of  Christianity 
was  employed  in  supporting  a  baneful  admi- 


iPA 

nistration  to  the  vices,  or  could  withdraw 
his  thoughts  from  the  penury  and  suffering 
which  such  an  administration  necessarily 
entailed  on  the  people,  he  had  opportunities 
of  access  at  Rome  to  the  most  various  and 
delightful  exercises  of  the  faculties  of  me- 
mory, taste,  and  judgment,  in  the  company 
of  persons  distinguished  for  their  knowledge 
and  genius.  For,  with  all  the  social  inter- 
course for  wliich  Paris  was  celebrated  in  the 
reign  of  Louis  XV.  the  local  objects  at  Rome 
gave  a  higher  and  richer  tone  to  conversation 
there;  even  the  living  vices  were  there  less 
offensive  than  at  Paris,  the  rumours  of  them 
being  almost  lost  in  the  remembrance  of 
departed  virtue,  constantly  kept  awake  by 
the  sight  of  its  monuments  and  vouchers. 
Tyranny  in  Rome  was  exercised  more 
intellectually  than  in  the  French  capital. 
Injustice  and  oppression  were  used  more  in 
the  form  of  persuasion;  and  though  the 
crosier  was  not  less  pernicious  than  the 
bayonet,  it  inflicted  a  less  irritating  injury. 

9. 


12S 

The  virtuous  endured  with  patience  the 
wrongs  that  then-  misguided  judgment  led 
them  to  beUeve  were  salutary  to  their  eternal 
welfare.  But  it  ought  to  be  observed,  that 
the  immorality  of  the  Romans  was  greatly 
exaggerated.  Individuals  redeemed  by  their 
merits  the  reproach  of  universal  profligacy; 
and  strangers,  by  being  on  their  guard  against 
the  moral  contagion,  suffered  a  less  dangerous 
taint  than  in  the  atheistical  coteries  of  Paris. 
Many,  in  consequence,  who  came  prepared 
to  be  disgusted  with  the  degenerated  Romans, 
often  bade  them  adieu  with  sentiments  of 
respect,  and  remembered  their  urbanity  and 
accomplishments  with  delightful  satisfaction. 

II.  It  was  not,  however,  the  native  inha- 
bitants of  Rome  who  constituted  the  chief 
attractions  of  society  there,  but  the  number 
of  accomplished  strangers  of  all  countries 
and  rehgions,  who,  in  constant  succession, 
came  in  pUgrimage  to  the  shrine  of  antiquity; 
and  who,  by  the  contemplation  of  the  merits 


1S3 

and  glories  of  departed  worth,  often  felt 
themselves,  as  it  were,  niu^aculously  endowed 
with  new  qualities.  The  collision  of  minds 
fraught  with  learning,  in  that  high  state  of 
excitement  which  the  genius  of  the  place 
produced  on  the  coldest  imaginations, 
together  with  those  innumeralde  brilliant 
and  transitory  topics  which  were  never 
elicited  in  any  other  city,  made  the  Roman 
conversations  a  continual  exercise  of  the 
understanding.  Tlie  details  of  political 
intrigue,  and  the  follies  of  individuals,  excited 
but  little  interest  among  the  strangers  in 
Rome.  It  seemed  as  if  by  an  universal  tacit 
resolution,  national  and  personal  peculiari- 
ties and  prejudices  were  forgotten,  and  that 
all  strangers  simultaneously  turned  their 
attention  to  the  transactions  and  affairs  of 
former  ages,  and  of  statesmen  and  authors 
now  no  more.  Their  mornings  were  spent 
in  surveying  the  monuments  raised  to  public 
virtue,  and  in  giving  local  features  in  their , 
minds  to  the   knowledge  which  they  had 


i24 

acquired  by  the  perusal  of  those  works  that 
have  perpetuated  the  dignity  of  the  Roman 
character.  Their  evenings  were  often  allotted 
to  the  comparison  of  theh'  respective  con- 
jectures, and  to  asceilain  the  authenticity 
and  liistory  of  the  relics  which  they  had 
collected  of  ancient  art.  Sometimes  tlie 
day  was  consumed  in  the  study  of  those 
inestimable  ornaments  of  religion,  by  which 
the  fraudulent  disposition  of  the  priesthood 
had,  in  the  decay  of  its  power,  rendered 
itself  venerable  to*  the  most  enlightened 
minds;  and  the  night  was  devoted  to  the 
consideration  of  the  causes  wliich  contribute 
to  the  development  of  genius,  or  of  the 
events  wliich  tend  to  stifle  and  overwhelm 
its  powers.  Every  recreation  of  the  stranger 
in  Rome  was  an  effbil  of  the  memory,  of 
abstraction,  and  of  fancy. — Society,  in  tliis 
elevated  state  of  enjoyment,  surrounded  by 
the  greatest  works  of  human  creation,  and 
placed  amidst  the  monuments  of  the  most 
illustrious  of  mankind,  and  that  of  the  quakers 


of  Pennsylvania,  employed  in  the  mechanical 
industry  of  felling  timber,  and  amid  the 
sobriety  of  rural  and  commercial  economy, 
were  like  the  extremes  of  a  long  series  of 
events,  in  which,  though  the  former  is  the 
necessary  consequence  of  the  latter,  no 
resemblance  can  be  traced  in  their  respective 
characteristics.  In  America  all  was  young, 
vigorous,  and  growing, — the  spring  of  a 
nation,  frugal,  active,  and  simple.  In  Rome 
all  was  old,  infirm,  and  decaying, — ^the 
autumn  of  a  people  who  had  gathered  their 
glory,  and  were  sinking  into  sleep  under  the 
disgraceful  excesses  of  the  vintage.  On  the 
most  inert  mind,  passing  from  the  one 
continent  to  the  other,  the  contrast  was 
sufficient  to  excite  great  emotion;  on  such 
a  character  as  that  of  Mr.  West,  who  was 
naturally  disposed  to  the  contemplation  of 
the  sublime  and  beautiful,  both  as  to  their 
moral  and  visible  effect,  it  made  a  deep  and 
indelible  impression.  It  confirmed  him  in 
the  wisdom  of  those  strict  religious  principles 


126 

wMch  denied  the  utility  of  art  when  solely 
employed  as  the  medium  of  amusement: 
and  impelled  him  to  attempt  what  could  De 
done  to  approximate  the  uses  of  the  pencil 
y  to  those  of  the  pen,  in  order  to  render 
painting,  indeed,  the  sister  of  eloquence  and 
poetry. 

III.  But  the  course  of  study  in  the  Roman 
schools  was  not  calculated  to  enable  him  to 
carry  tliis  gi^and  purpose  into  effect;  for  the 
principles  by  which  Michael  Angelo,  and 
Raphael  had  attained  their  excellence,  were 
no  longer  regarded.  The  study  of  nature 
was  deserted  for  that  of  the  antique-  and 
pictures  were  composed  according  to  riiles 
derived  fi'om  other  paintings,  without  respect 
to  what  the  subject  required,  or  what  the 
circumstances  of  the  scene  probably  appeared 
to  be.  It  was,  therefore,  not  one  of  the 
least  happy  occurrences  in  liis  life  that  he 
went  to  Rome  when  society  was  not  only  in 
the  most  favourable  state  for  the  improve- 


127 

ment  of  his  mind,  and  for  convincing  him 
of  the  deleterious  influence  of  the  arts  when 
employed  as  the  embeUishments  of  voluptu- 
ousness and  luxury;  but  also  when  the  state 
of  the  arts  was  so  mean,  that  the  full  effect 
of  studying  the  antique  only,  and  of  grouping 
characters  by  academical  rules,  should 
appear  so  striking  as  to  satisfy  him  that  he 
could  never  hope  for  any  eminence,  if  he 
did  not  attend  more  to  the  phenomena  of 
nature,  than  to  the  productions  of  the  greatest 
genius.  The  perusal  of  the  works  of  other 
painters,  he  was  sensible,  would  improve 
his  taste;  but  he  was  convinced,  that  the 
design  wliicli  he  had  formed  for  estabhshing 
his  own  fame,  could  not  be  realised,  if,  for 
a  single  moment,  he  forgot  tliat  their  works, 
however  exquisite,  were  but  the  imitations 
and  forms  of  those  eternal  models  to  which 
he  had  been  instinctively  directed. 

IV.  It  was  on  the  lOth  of  July,  1760,  that 
he  arrived  at  Rome.     The  French  courier 


138 

conducted  him  to  a  hotel,  and,  having  men- 
tioned in  the  house  that  he  was  an  American, 
and  a  quaker,  come  to  study  the  fine  arts, 
the  cuxumstance  seemed  so  extraordinary, 
that  it  reached  the  ears  of  Mr.  Robinson, 
aftei-wards  lord  Grantham,  who  immediately 
found  himself  possessed  by  an  irresistible 
desire  to  see  him;  and  who,  before  he  had 
time  to  dress  or  refresh  himself,  paid  him  a 
visit,  and  insisted  that  he  should  dine  with 
him.  In  the  course  of  dinner,  that  gen- 
tleman inquired  what  letters  of  introduction 
the  artist  had  brought  with  him;  and  West 
having  informed  him,  he  observed  it  was 
somewhat  remarkable  that  the  whole  of  them 
shoidd  be  addressed  to  his  most  particular 
friends,  adding,  that  as  he  was  engaged  to 
meet  them  at  a  party  in  the  evening,  he 
expected  West  would  accompany  him.  This 
attention  and  fi-ankness  was  acknowledged 
as  it  deserved  to  be,  and  is  remembered  by 
the  artist  among  those  fortunate  incidents 
which  have  rendered  the  recollection  of  his 


1^9 

past  life  so  pleasant,  as  scarcely  to  leave  a 
wish  for  any  part  of  it  to  have  been  spent 
otherwise  than  it  was.  At  the  hour  appointed, 
Mr.  Robinson  conducted  him  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Crispigne,  an  English  gentleman  who 
had  long  resided  at  Rome,  where  the  evening 
party  was  held. 

V.  Among  the  distinguished  persons  whom 
Mr.  West  found  in  the  company,  was  the 
celebrated  cardinal  Albani.  His  eminence, 
although  quite  blind,  had  acquired,  by  tlie 
exquisite  delicacy  of  his  touch,  and  the  com- 
bining powers  of  his  mind,  such  a  sense  of 
ancient  beauty,  that  he  excelled  all  the 
virtuosi  then  in  Rome,  in  the  correctness  of 
his  knowledge  of  the  verity  and  peculiarities 
of  the  smallest  medals  and  intaglios.  Mr. 
Robinson  conducted  the  artist  to  the  inner 
apartment,  where  the  cardinal  was  sitting, 
and  said,  '•  I  have  the  honour  to  present  a 
young  American,  who  has  a  letter  of  intro- 
duction to    your  eminence,  and  who   has 

R 


130 

come  to  Italy  for  the  purpose  of  studying 
the  fine  arts."  The  cardinal  fancying  that 
the  American  must  be  an  Indian,  exclaimed, 
"  Is  he  black  or  white?"  and  on  being  told 
that  he  was  very  fair,  "  What  as  fair  as  I 
am?"  cried  the  cardinal  still  more  surprised. 
This  latter  expression  excited  a  good  deal 
of  mirth  at  the  cardinal's  expense,  for  his 
complexion  was  of  the  darkest  Italian  oUve, 
and  West's  was  even  of  more  than  the  usual 
degree  of  EngUsh  fairness.  For  some  time 
after,  if  it  be  not  still  in  use,  the  expression 
of  "  as  fair  as  the  cardinal"  acquired  prover- 
bial currency  in  the  Roman  conversations, 
applied  to  persons  who  had  any  inordinate 
conceit  of  their  own  beauty. 

VI.  The  cardinal,  after  some  other  short 
questions,  invited  West  to  come  near  him, 
and  running  his  hands  over  liis  features,  still 
more  attracted  the  attention  of  the  company 
to  the  stranger,  by  the  admiration  which  he 
expressed  at  the  form  of  his  head.     This 


131 

occasioned  inquiries  respecting  the  youth; 
and  the  ItaUans  concluding  that,  as  he  was 
an  American,  he  must,  of  course,  have 
received  the  education  of  a  savage,  became 
curious  to  witness  the  effect  which  the 
works  of  art  in  the  Belvidere  and  Vatican 
would  produce  on  him.  The  whole  company, 
which  consisted  of  the  principal  Roman 
nobility,  and  strangers  of  distinction  then  in 
Rome,  were  interested  in  the  event;  and  it 
was  arranged  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 
that  on  the  following  morning  they  should 
accompany  Mr.  Robinson  and  his  protege  to 
the  palaces. 

VII.  At  the  hour  appointed,  the  company 
assembled;  and  a  procession,  consisting  of 
upwards  of  thirty  of  the  most  magnificent 
equipages  in  the  capital  of  Christendom,  and 
filled  with  some  of  the  most  erudite  cha- 
racters in  Europe,  conducted  the  young  qua- 
ker  to  view  the  master-pieces  of  art.  It  was 
agreed  that  the  Apollo  should  be  first  sub- 


13S 

mitted  to  his  view,  because  it  was  the  most 
perfect  work  among  all  the  ornaments  of 
Rome;  and,  consequently,  the  best  calculated 
to  produce  that  effect  which  the  company 
were  anxious  to  witness.  The  statue  then 
stood  in  a  case,  enclosed  with  doors,  wWch 
could  be  so  opened  as  to  disclose  it  at  once 
to  fldl  view.  West  was  placed  in  the  situation 
where  it  was  seen  to  the  most  advantage, 
and  the  spectators  arranged  themselves  on 
each  side.  When  the  keeper  threw  open 
the  doors,  the  artist  felt  himself  surprised 
with  a  sudden  recollection  altogether  different 
from  the  gi^atification  which  he  had  expected; 
and  without  being  aware  of  the  force  of  what 
he  said,  exclaimed,  "  My  God,  how  like  it  is 
to  a  young  Mohawk  warrior!"  The  Italians, 
observing  his  surprise,  and  hearing  the 
exclamation,  requested  Mr.  Robinson  to 
translate  to  them  what  he  said;  and  they 
were  excessively  mortified  to  find  that  the 
god  of  their  idolatry  was  compared  to  a 
savage.     Mr.  Robinson  mentioned  to  West 


133 

their  chagrin,  and  asked  him  to  give  some 
more  distinct  explanation,  by  informing  him 
what  sort  of  people  the  Mohawk  Indians 
were.  He  described  to  him  their  education; 
their  dexterity  with  the  bow  and  arrow;  the 
admirable  elasticity  of  their  limbs;  and  how 
much  their  active  hfe  expands  the  chest, 
while  the  quick  breathing  of  then'  speed 
in  the  cliase,  dilates  the  nostrils  with  that 
apparent  consciousness  of  vigour  which  is 
so  nobly  depicted  in  the  Apollo.  "  I  have 
seen  them  often,"  added  he,  "  standing  in 
that  very  attitude,  and  pursuing,  with  an 
intense  eye,  the  arrow  which  they  had  just 
discharged  from  the  bow."  This  descriptive 
explanation  did  not  lose  by  Mr.  Robinson's 
translation.  The  Italians  were  deUghted, 
and  allowed  that  a  better  criticism  had  rarely 
been  pronounced  on  the  merits  of  the  statue. 
The  view  of  the  other  great  works  did  not 
awaken  the  same  vivid  feelings.  Those  of 
Raphael,  in  the  Vatican,  did  not  at  first 
particularly  interest  him;  nor  was  it  until  he 


184 

had  often  visited  them  alone,  and  studied 
them  by  himself,  that  he  could  appreciate 
the  fulness  of  their  excellence.  His  first 
view  of  the  works  of  Michael  Angelo,  was 
still  less  satisfactory:  indeed,  he  continued 
always  to  think,  that,  with  the  single  exception 
of  the  Moses,  that  artist  had  not  succeeded 
in  giving  a  probable  character  to  any  of 
his  subjects,  notwithstanding  the  masterly 
hand  and  mind  wliich  pervade  the  weakest 
of  liis  productions. 

VIII.  Among  the  first  objects  which  par- 
ticularly interested  Mr.  West,  and  wliich  he 
never  ceased  to  revisit  day  after  day  with 
increasing  pleasure,  were  the  celebrated 
statues  ascribed  to  Phidias,  on  the  Monte 
Cavallo.  The  action  of  the  human  figure 
appeared  to  him  so  majestic,  that  it  seemed 
to  throw,  as  it  were,  a  \isible  kind  of  awe 
into  the  very  atmosphere,  and  over  all  the 
surrounding  buildings.  But  the  smallness 
of  the  horse  struck  him  as  exceedingly  pre- 


135 

posterous.  He  had  often  examined  it  before 
the  idea  occurred  to  him  that  it  was  probably 
reduced  according  to  some  unknown  prin- 
ciple of  ancient  art;  and  in  this  notion  he 
was  confirmed,  by  observing  something  of 
the  same  kind  in  the  relative  proportion  of 
human  figures  and  animals,  on  the  different 
gems  and  bas-reliefs  to  which  his  attention 
was  subsequently  directed.  The  ancient  / 
sculptors  uniformly  seemed  to  consider  the 
human  figure  as  the  chief  object,  and  sacri- 
ficed, to  give  it  effect,  the  proportions  of 
inferior  parts.  The  author  of  the  group  on 
the  Monte  Cavallo,  in  the  opinion  of  Mr. 
West,  represented  the  horse  smaller  than 
the  natural  size,  in  order  to  augment  the 
grandeur  of  the  man.  How  far  this  notion, 
as  the  principle  of  a  rule,  may  be  sound,  it 
would  be  unnecessary,  perhaps  impertinent, 
to  inquire  here;  but  its  justness  as  applicable 
to  the  sculptures  of  antiquity,  is  abundantly 
verified  by  the  bas-reliefs  brought  from  the 
Parthenon  of  Athens.     Tt  is,  indeed,  so  ad- 


136 

mitted  a  feature  of  ancient  art,  as  to  be 
regarded  by  some  critics,  as  having  for  its 
object  the  sanie  effect  in  sculpture,  which 
is  attained  by  Ught  and  shadow  in  painting. 
In  a  picture,  the  artist,  by  a  judicious  ob- 
scurity, so  veils  the  magnitude  of  the  car 
in  which  he  places  a  victor,  that,  notwith- 
standing its  size,  it  may  not  appear  the 
principal  object;  but  this  artifice  is  denied 
to  the  sculptor,  who  is  necessitated  to  di- 
minish the  size  of  those  things  which  are 
of  least  importance,  in  order  to  give  dignity 
to  the  dominant  figures.  Raphael,  in  making 
the  boat  so  small  in  the  miraculous  draught 
of  fishes,  is  thought  to  have  injudiciously 
applied  this  rule  of  ancient  sculpture;  for 
he  ought  to  have  accomplished,  by  fore- 
shortening, tlie  same  effect  wliich  he  meant 
to  produce  by  diminisliing  the  size.  It 
should  however,  be  observed,  that  great 
doubts  are  entertained  if  the  statues  on  the 
Monte  Cavallo  were  originally  integral  parts 
of  the  same  group;  but  although  this  doubt 


137 

may  be  well  founded,  it  will  not  invalidate 
the  supposed  general  principle  of  the  an- 
cient sculptors,  corroborated,  as  it  is,  by 
innumerable  examples. 

IX.  In  the  evening,  after  visiting  the  pa- 
laces, Mr.  Robinson  carried  Mr.  West  to  see 
a  grand  religious  ceremony  in  one  of  the 
churches.  Hitherto  he  was  acquainted  only 
with  the  simple  worship  of  the  quakers. 
The  pomp  of  the  papal  ceremonies  was  as 
much  beyond  his  comprehension,  as  the 
overpowering  excellence  of  the  music  sur- 
passed his  utmost  expectations.  Undoubtedly, 
in  all  the  spectacles  and  amusements  of 
Rome,  he  possessed  a  keener  sense  of  enjoy- 
ment, arising  from  the  simplicity  of  his 
education,  than  most  other  travellers.  That 
same  sensibility  to  the  beauty  of  forms  and 
colours  which  had  awakened  his  genius  for 
painting,  was,  probably,  accompanied  with  a 
general  superior  susceptibility  of  the  other 
organs  as  well  as  the  sight;  for  it  is  observed 


i38 

that  a  taste  for  any  one  of  the  fine  arts  is 
connected  with  a  general  predilection  for 
them  all.  But  neither  the  Apollo,  the 
Vatican,  nor  the  pomp  of  the  catholic  ritual, 
excited  his  feeUngs  to  so  great  a  degree  as 
the  spectacle  which  presented  itself  to  his  view 
around  the  portico  of  the  church.  Bred  in  the 
universal  prosperity  of  Pennsylvania,  where 
the  benevolence  of  the  human  bosom  was 
only  employed  in  the  acts  of  hospitality  and 
mutual  kindness,  he  had  never  witnessed  any 
spectacle  of  beggary,  nor  had  he  ever  heard 
thename  of  God  uttered  to  secondan  entreaty 
for  alms.  Here,  however,  all  the  lazars 
and  the  wretched  in  Rome  were  collected 
together;  hundreds  of  young  and  old  in  that 
extreme  of  squalor,  nakedness,  and  disease, 
which  affrights  the  EngUsh  traveller  in  Italy, 
were  seen  on  all  sides;  and  their  impoilu- 
nities  and  cries,  for  the  love  of  God,  and  the 
mercy  of  Christ,  to  reUeve  them,  thiilled  in 
his  ears,  and  smote  upon  his  heart  to  such  a 
degree,  that  his  joints  became  as  it  were 


139 

loosened,  and  his  legs  scarcely  able  to  support 
him.  Many  of  the  beggars  knew  Mr.  Ro- 
binson, and  seeing  him  accompanied  by  a 
stranger,  an  Englishman,  as  they  concluded 
the  artist  to  be  from  his  appearance,  sur- 
rounded them  with  confidence  and  clamours. 

X.  As  they  returned  from  the  church,  a 
woman  somewhat  advanced  in  Ufe,  and  of  a 
better  appearance  than  the  generality  of  the 
beggars,  followed  them,  and  Mr.  West  gave 
her  a  small  piece  of  copper  money,  the  first 
Roman  coin  which  he  had  received  in  change, 
the  relative  value  of  wliich  to  the  other  coins 
of  the  country  was  unknown  to  him.  Shortly 
afterwards  they  were  joined  by  some  of  the 
Italians,  whom  they  had  seen  in  the  morning, 
and  while  they  were  conversing  together,  he 
felt  some  one  pull  his  coat,  and  turned  round. 
It  was  the  poor  woman  to  whom  he  had 
given  the  piece  of  copper  money.  She 
held  out  in  her  hand  several  smaller  pieces, 


140 

and  as  he  did  not  understand  her  language, 
he  concluded  that  she  was  chiding  Wm  for 
having  given  her  such  a  trifle,  and  coloured 
deeply  with  the  idea.  His  English  friend, 
observing  his  confusion,  inquired  what  he 
had  given  her,  and  he  answered  that  he  did 
not  know,  but  it  was  a  piece  of  money,  which 
he  had  received  in  change.  Robinson,  after 
a  short  conversation  with  the  beggar,  told 
Mr.  West,  that  she  had  asked  him  to  give 
her  a  farthing,  "  But  as  you  gave  her  a  two- 
penny-piece," said  he,  "  she  has  brought 
you  the  change."  This  instance  of  humble 
honesty,  contrasted  with  the  awful  mass  of 
misery  with  which  it  was  united,  gave  him  a 
favourable  idea  of  the  latent  sentiments  of 
the  Italians.  How  much,  indeed,  is  the 
character  of  that  people  traduced  by  the  rest 
of  Europe!  How  often  is  the  traveUer  in 
Italy,  when  he  dreads  the  approach  of  robbers, 
and  prepares  against  murder,  surprised  at 
the  bountiful  disposition  of  the   common 


141 

Italians,  and  made  to  blush  at  having  appUed 
the  charges  against  a  few  criminals  to  the 
character  of  a  whole  people — without  re- 
flecting that  the  nation  is  only  weak  because 
it  is  subdivided. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


I.  Anecdote  of  a  famous  improvisatore.  II.  West  the  subject  of  one 
of  his  finest  effusions.  III.  Anecdote  of  cardinal  A Ibani.  IV.  West 
introduced  to  Mengs.  V.  Satisfactory  result  of  West's  first  essay 
in  Rome.  VI.  Consequence  of  the  continual  excitement  ^hich  the 
artist's  feelings  endured.  VII.  He  goes  to  Florence  for  advice. 
yill.  He  accompanies  Mr.  Matthews  in  a  tour.  IX.  Singular  instance 
of  liberality  towards  the  artist  from  several  gentlemen  of  Phila- 
delphia. 


I.  XT  was  not,  however,  the  novelty, 
variety,  and  magnificence  of  the  works  of  art 
and  antiquity  in  Rome,  that  kept  Mr.  West 
in  a  constant  state  of  high  excitement;  the 
vast  difference-  in  the  manners  of  the  people 
from  those  of  the  inhabitants  of  America, 
acted  also  as  an  incessant  stimulus  on  his 
feelings  and  imagination:  even  that  differ- 
ence, great  as  it  happened  to  be,  was  rendered 
particularly  interesting  to  him  by  incidents 
arising  out  of  his  own  pecuUar  situation.  One 
night,  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Rome,  Mr. 


143 

Gavin  HamUton,  the  painter,  to  whom  he 
had  been  introduced  by  Mr.  Robinson,  took 
him  to  a  coffee-house,  the  usual  resort  of 
the  British  travellers.  While  they  were 
sitting  at  one  of  the  tables,  a  venerable  old 
man,  with  a  guitar  suspended  from  his  shoul- 
der, entered  the  room,  and  coming  immedi- 
ately to  their  table,  Mr.  Hamilton  addressed 
him  by  the  name  of  Homer.  He  was  the 
most  celebrated  improvisatore  in  all  Italy, 
and  the  richness  of  expression,  and  nobleness 
of  conception  which  he  displayed  in  his 
effusions,  had  obtained  for  him  that  distin- 
guished name.  Those  who  once  heard  his 
poetry,  never  ceased  to  lament  that  it  was 
lost  in  the  same  moment,  affirming,  that  it 
often  was  so  regular  and  dignified,  as  to  equal 
the  finest  compositions  of  Tasso  and  Ariosto. 
It  will,  perhaps,  afford  some  gratification 
to  the  admirers  of  native  genius  to  learn, 
that  this  old  man,  though  led  by  the  fine 
frenzy  of  his  imagination  to  prefer  a  wild 
and  wandering  life  to  the  offer  of  a  settled 


m 


144 

independence,  which  had  been  often  made 
to  liim  in  his  youth,  enjoyed  in  his  old  age, 
by  the  Uberahty  of  several  EngUshmen,  who 
had  raised  a  subscription  for  the  purpose, 
a  small  pension,  sufficient  to  keep  Mm 
comfortable  in  his  own  way,  when  he  became 
incapable  of  amusing  the  public. 

n.  After  some  conversation,  Homer 
requested  Mr.  Hamilton  to  give  him  a  subject 
for  a  poem,  hi  the  mean  time,  a  number 
of  Italians  had  gathered  round  them  to  look 
at  West,  who  they  had  heard  was  an  Ameri- 
can, and  whom,  like  cardinal  Albani,  they 
imagined  to  be  an  Indian.  Some  of  them, 
on  hearing  Homer's  request,  observed, 
that  he  had  exhausted  Ms  vein,  and  had 
had  already  said  and  sung  every  subject 
over  and  over.  Mr.  Hamilton,  however, 
remarked  that  he  thought  he  could  propose 
sometMng  new  to  the  bard,  and  pointing  to 
Mr.  "N^'est,  said,  that  he  was  an  American 
come  to  study  the  fine  arts  in  Rome;  and 


145 

that  such  an  event  furnished  a  new  and 
magnificent  theme.  Homer  took  possession 
of  the  thought  with  the  ardour  of  inspiration. 
He  immediately  unslung  his  guitar,  and  began 
to  draw  his  fingers  rapidly  over  the  strings, 
swinging  his  body  from  side  to  side,  and 
striking  fine  and  impressive  chords.  When 
he  had  thus  brought  his  motions  and  his 
feelings  into  unison  with  the  instrument,  he 
began  an  extemporaneous  ode  in  a  manner 
so  dignified,  so  pathetic,  and  so  enthusiastic, 
that  Mr.  West  was  scarcely  less  interested 
by  his  appearance  than  those  who  enjoyed 
the  subject  and  melody  of  his  numbers.  He 
sung  the  darkness  which  for  so  many  ages 
veiled  America  from  the  eyes  of  science. 
He  described  the  fulness  of  time,  when  the 
purposes  for  which  it  had  been  raised  from 
the  deep  were  to  be  manifested.  He  painted 
the  seraph  of  knowledge  descending  from 
heaven,  and  directing  Columbus  to  undertake 
the  discovery;  and  he  related  the  leading 
incidents  of  the  voyage.     He  invoked  the 


146 

fancy  of  his  auditors  to  contemplate  the  wild 
magnificence  of  mountain,  lake,  and  wood, 
in  the  new  world;  and  he  raised,  as  it  were, 
in  vivid  perspective,  the  Indians  in  the  chase, 
and  at  their  horrible  sacrifices.  "But,''  he 
exclaimed, "  the  beneficent  spirit  of  improve- 
ment is  ever  on  the  wing,  and,  like  the  ray 
fi'om  the  throne  of  God  wliich  inspired  the 
conception  of  the  virgin,  it  has  descended  on 
this  youth,  and  the  hope  which  ushered  in  its 
new  miracle,  like  the  star  that  guided  the 
magi  to  Betlilehem,  has  led  him  to  Rome. 
Methinks  I  behold  'in  him  an  instrument 
chosen  by  heaven,  to  raise  in  America  the 
taste  for  those  arts  wliich  elevate  the  nature 
of  man, — an  assurance  that  his  country  will 
afford  a  refuge  to  science  and  knowledge, 
when  in  the  old  age  of  Europe  they  shall 
have  forsaken  her  shores.  But  all  things  of 
heavenly  origin,  like  the  glorious  sun,  move 
westward;  and  truth  and  art  have  their  periods 
of  shining,  and  of  night.  Rejoice  then,  0 
venerable  Rome,  in  Uiy  divine  destiny;  for 


147 

though  darkness  overshadow  thy  seats,  and 
though  thy  mitred  head  must  descend  into 
the  dust,  as  deep  as  the  earth  that  now  covers 
thy  ancient  helmet  and  imperial  diadem,  thy 
spmt,    immortal    and    undecayed,    already 
spreads  towards  a  new  world,  where,  like 
the  soul  of  man  in  paradise,  it  will  be  per- 
fected in  virtue  and  beauty  more  and  more.'' 
The  highest  efforts  of  the  greatest  actors, 
even  of  Garrick  himself  delivering  the  poetry 
of  Shakspeare,  never    produced    a    more 
immediate    and  inspiring  effect   than   this 
rapid  burst  of  genius.     When  the  applause 
had  abated,  Mr.  West  being  the  stranger,  and 
the  party  addressed,  according  to  the  common 
practice,    made  the  bard  a  present.      Mr. 
Hamilton  explained  the  subject  of  the  ode: 
though  with  the  weakness  of  a  verbal  trans- 
lation, and  the  imperfection  of  an  indistinct 
echo,  it  was  so  connected  with  the  appearance 
which  the  author  made  in  the  recital,  that 
the  incident  has  never  been  obliterated  fi'om 
Mr.  West's  recollection. 


148 

ni.  While  the  artist  was  gratifying  liim- 
self  with  a  ciii^ory  view  of  the  works  of  art, 
and  of  the  curiosities,  Mr.  Hope,  of  Am- 
sterdam, the  father  of  the  gentlemen  who 
have  since  become  so  well  known  in  Lon- 
don for  their  taste  in  the  ails,  and  their 
superb  collections  of  pictures  and  mai'bles, 
arrived  in  Rome.  Mr.  West  being  introduced 
to  him,  accompanied  him  to  cardinal  Albani, 
to  whom  he  had  letters  of  introduction,  and 
witnessed  a  proof  of  the  peculiar  skill  of  his 
eminence.  The  cardinal  requested  Mr.  Hope 
to  come  near  liim,  and  according  to  his  usual 
custom  with  strangers,  drew  his  hands  over 
his  face,  observing  that  he  was  a  German. 
In  doing  tlie  same  thing  to  Mr.  West,  he 
recognised  Mm  as  the  young  American. 

IV.  At  tliis  time  Mengs  was  in  the  zenith 
of  liis  popularity,  and  West  was  introduced 
to  him  at  the  cardinal's  villa.  He  appeared 
to  be  as  much  struck  as  every  other  person, 
with  the  extraordinary  cuxum  stance  of  an 


149 

American  coining  to  study  the  fine  arts;  and 
begged  that  Mr.  West  would  show  him  a 
specimen  of  his  proficiency  in  drawing.  In 
returning  home,  our  artist  mentioned  to  Mr. 
Robinson  that  as  he  had  never  learnt  to  draw, 
he  could  not  produce  any  sketch  like  those 
made  by  the  other  students;  but  that  he 
could  paint  a  little,  and  if  Mr.  Robinson 
would  take  the  trouble  to  sit,  he  would  exe- 
cute his  portrait  to  show  Mengs.  The  pro- 
posal was  readily  acceded  to,  and  it  was  also 
agreed,  that  except  to  two  of  their  most  in- 
timate acquaintances,  the  undertaking  should 
be  kept  a  profound  secret.  When  the  pic- 
ture was  finished,  it  was  so  advantageous  to 
the  artist,  that  it  tended  to  confirm  the 
opinion  wMch  was  entertained  of  his  pow- 
ers, founded  only  on  the  strength  of  the 
curiosity  which  had  brought  him  from 
America.  But,  before  showing  it  to  Mengs, 
it  was  resolved  that  the  taste  and  judgment 
of  the  public,  with  respect  to  its  merits, 
should  be  ascertained. 


150 

V.  Mr.  Crespigne,  one  of  the  two  friends 
in  the  secret,  lived  as  a  Roman  gentleman, 
and  twice  a  year  gave  a  grand  assembly  at 
his  house,  to  w^hich  all  the  nobility  and 
strangers  in  Rome,  the  most  eminent  for 
rank,  birth,  and  talents,  were  invited.  It 
was  agreed  that  the  portrait  should  be  ex- 
hibited at  one  of  his  pailies,  which  happen- 
ed to  take  place  soon  after  it  was  finished. 
A  suitable  frame  being  provided,  the  paint- 
ing was  hung  up  in  one  of  the  rooms.  The 
first  guests  who  arrived,  were  amateurs  and 
artists;  and  as  it  was  known  among  them 
that  Robinson  was  sitting  to  Mengs  for  his 
portrait,  it  was  at  once  thought  to  be  that 
picture,  and  they  agreed  that  they  had  never 
seen  any  painting  of  the  artist  so  well 
coloured.  As  the  guests  assembled,  the 
portrait  became  more  and  more  the  subject 
of  attention,  and  Mr.  West  sat  behind  on  a 
sofa  equally  agitated  and  delighted  by  their 
strictures,  which  Mr.  Robinson  reported  to 
liim  from  time  to  time.  In  the  course  of  the 


151 

evening  Mr.  Dance,  an  Englishman  of  great 
shrewdness,  was  observed  looking  with  an  eye 
of  more  than  common  scrutiny  at  the  portrait, 
by  Mr.  Jenkins,  another  of  the  guests,  who, 
congratulating  Robinson  in  getting  so  good 
a  portrait  from  Mengs,  turned  to  Dance,  and 
said,  " That  he  must  now  acknowledge  that' 
Mengs  could  colour  as  well  as  he  could 
draw."  Dance  confessed  that  he  thought 
the  picture  much  better  coloured  than  those 
usually  painted  by  Mengs,  but  added  that  he 
did  not  tliink  the  drawing  either  so  firm  or 
so  good  as  the  usual  style  of  that  artist. 
This  remark  occasioned  some  debate,  in 
which  Jenkins,  attributing  the  strictures  of 
Dance  to  some  prejudice  which  he  had 
early  conceived  against  Mengs,  drew  the 
company  around  to  take  a  part  in  the  dis- 
cussion. Mr.  Crespigne  seizing  the  proper 
moment  in  their  conversation  to  produce  the 
effect  intended,  said  to  Jenkins  that  he  was 
mistaken,  and  that  Dance  was  in  the  right, 
for,  in  truth,  the  picture  was  not  painted  by 


152 

Mengs.  '•  By  whom  then,*'  vociferated  every 
one,  "  for  there  is  no  other  painter  now  in 
Rome  capable  of  executing  any  tiling  so 
good?"  "  By  that  yomig  gentleman  there," 
said  Mr.  Crespigne,  tm*ning  to  West.  At 
once  all  eyes  were  bent  towards  him,  and  the 
Italians,  in  their  way,*  ran  and  embraced  liim. 
Thus  did  the  best  judges  at  once,  by  tliis 
picture,  acknowledge  him  as  only  second  in 
the  executive  department  of  the  art  to  the 
first  painter  then  in  Rome.  Mengs  himself, 
on  seeing  the  picture,  expressed  Iiis  opinion 
in  terms  that  did  great  honour  to  liis  liberality, 
and  gave  the  aitist  an  advice  whicli  he  never 
forgot,  nor  remembered  without  gi^atitude. 
He  told  liim  that  the  portrait  showed  that 
he  had  no  occasion  to  learn  to  paint  at 
Rome.  "  You  have  already,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  the  mechanical  part  of  your  art:  what  I 
would,  therefore,  recommend  to  you,  is  to 
see  and  examine  every  thing  deserving  of 
your  attention  here,  and  after  making  a  few 
drawings  of  about  half  a  dozen  of  the  best 


153 

statues,  go  to  Florence,  and  observe  what 
has  been   done  for  art  in  the    collections 
there.    Then  proceed  to  Bologna,  and  study 
the  works  of  the  Caracci;    afterwards  visit 
Parma,  and  examine,  attentively,  the   pic- 
tures of  Corregio;  and  then  go  to  Venice 
and   view   the    productions    of   Tintoretti, 
Titian,  and  Paul  Veronese.    When  you  have 
made  this  tour,  come  back  to  Rome,  and 
paint  an  historical   composition  to  be  ex- 
hibited to  the  Roman  public;  and  the  opinion 
which  will  then  be  formed  of  your  talents 
should  determine  the  Une  of  our  profession 
which  you  ought  to  follow."  This  judicious 
advice,  so  different  from  those  absurd  aca- 
demical dogmas  wliich  would  confine  genius 
to  the  looking  only  to  the  works  of  art,  for 
that  perfection  which  they  but  dimly  reflect 
from  nature.  West  found  accord  so  well  mth 
his  own  reflections  and  principles,  that  he 
resolved  to  follow  it  with  care  and  attention. 
But  the  thought  of  being  in  Rome,  and  the 
constant  excitement  arising  from  extraordi- 

u 


154 

nary  and  interesting  objects,  so  afFected  his 
niind,  accustomed  to  the  sober  and  uniform 
habits  of  the  quakers,  that  sleep  deserted 
his  pillow,  and  he  became  ill  and  constantly 
feverish.  The  public  took  an  interest  in 
his  situation.  A  consultation  of  the  best 
physicians  ia  Rome  was  held  on  liis  case, 
the  residt  of  which  was  a  formal  communi- 
cation to  Mr.  Robinson,  that  his  friend  must 
immediately  quit  the  capital,  and  seek  relief 
from  the  irritated  state  of  his  sensibility  in 
quiet  and  retirement.  Accordingly,  on  the 
SOth  of  August  he  returned  to  Leghorn. 

VI.  Messrs.  Jackson  and  Rutherford,  by 
whose  most  fiiendly  recommendations  he 
had  obtained  so  much  flattering  distinction 
at  Rome,  received  him  into  their  own  house, 
and  treated  him  \vith  a  degi-ee  of  hospitaUty 
that  merits  for  them  the  honour  of  being 
considered  among  the  number  of  his  early 
patrons.  Mr.  (aftenvards  sir  John)  Dick, 
then  the  British  consul  at  Leghorn,  and  his 


455 

lady,  also  treated  him  with  great  partiality, 
and  procured  for  him  the  use  of  the  impe- 
rial baths.  His  mind  being  thus  relieved 
from  the  restless  ecstasy  which  he  had  suf- 
fered in  Rome,  and  the  intensity  of  interest 
being  diminished  by  the  circumscribed  na- 
ture of  the  society  of  Leghorn,  together  with 
the  bracing  effects  of  sea-bathing,  he  was 
soon  again  in  a  condition  to  resume  his 
study  in  the  capital.  But  the  same  over- 
powering attacks  on  his  feehngs  and  imagi- 
nation soon  produced  a  relapse  of  his 
former  indisposition,  and  compelled  him  to 
return  to  Leghorn,  where  he  was  again 
speedily  cured  of  his  fever,  but  it  left  in  its 
dregs  a  painful  affection  in  the  ancle,  that 
threatened  the  loss  of  the  limb.  The  well- 
known  Nanoni,  an  eminent  surgeon,  who 
had  introduced  many  improvements  in  the 
treatment  of  diseased  joints,  was  at  this 
period  resident  in  Florence,  and  Messrs. 
Jackson  and  Rutherford  wrote  to  sir  Horace 
Mann,  then  the  British  minister  at  the  ducal 


156 

court,  to  consult  him  relative  to  the  case  of 
Mr.  West:  his  answer  induced  them  to 
advise  the  artist  to  go  to  Florence.  After 
a  painful  period  of  eleven  months  confine- 
ment to  his  couch  and  chamber,  he  was 
perfectly  and  radically  cured. 

VII.  A  state  of  pain  and  disease  is  adverse 
to  mental  improvement;  but  there  were 
intervals  in  which  3Ir.  West  felt  his  anguish 
abate,  and  in  which  he  could  not  only 
participate  in  the  conversation  of  the  gentle- 
men to  whose  kindness  he  had  been  recom- 
mended, but  was  able,  occasionally,  to 
exercise  his  pencil.  The  testimonies  of 
friendship  which  he  received  at  this  period 
from  sir  Horace  Mann,  the  marquisses  of 
Creni  and  Riccardi,  the  late  lord  Cooper, 
and  many  others  of  the  British  nobility,  then 
travelling  in  Italy,  made  an  indelible  impres- 
sion on  his  mind,  and  became  a  stimulating 
motive  to  his  wishes  to  excel  in  his  art,  in 
order  to  demonstrate  by  his  proficiency  that 


157 

he  was  not  unworthy  of  their  soUcitude.  He 
had  a  table  constructed  so  as  to  enable  him 
to  draw  while  he  lay  in  bed;  and  in  that 
situation  he  amused  and  improved  himself 
in  deUneating  the  picturesque  conceptions 
which  were  constantly  presenting  themselves 
to  his  fancy. 

VIII.  When  he  was  so  far  recovered  as  to 
be  able  to  take  exercise,  and  to  endure  the 
fatigue  of  travelling,  a  circumstance  happened 
which  may  be  numbered  among  the  many 
fortunate  accidents  of  his  professional  career. 
Mr.  Matthews,  the  manager  of  the  important 
commercial  concerns  of  Messrs.  Jackson  and 
Rutherford,  was  one  of  those  singular  men 
who  are  but  rarely  met  with  in  mercantile 
life,  combining  the  highest  degree  of  Uterary 
and  elegant  accomplishments,  with  the  best 
talents  for  active  business.  He  was  not  only 
confessedly  one  of  the  finest  classical  scholars 
in  all  Italy,  but,  out  of  all  comparison,  the 
best  practical  antiquary,  perhaps,  then  in  that 


158 

country,  uniting,  along  with  the  minutest 
accuracy  of  criticism,  a  delicacy  of  taste  in 
the  perception  of  the  beauty  and  judgment 
of  the  ancients,  seldom  found  blended  with 
an  equal  degree  of  classical  erudition.  Affairs 
connected  with  the  business  of  the  house, 
and  a  wish  to  see  the  principal  cities  of  Italy, 
led  Mr.  Matthews,  aboiit  the  period  of  Mr. 
West's  recovery,  to  \isit  Florence,  and  it 
was  agreed  between  them  that  they  should 
together  make  the  tour  recommended  by 
Mengs. 

IX.  In  the  mean  time,  the  good  fortune  of 
West  was  working  to  happy  effects  in  another 
part  of  the  world.  The  story  of  Mr.  Robin- 
son's poiirait  had  made  so  great  a  noise 
among  tlie  travellers  in  Italy,  that  Messrs. 
Jackson  and  Rutherford,  in  sending  back  the 
ship  to  Philadelphia,  in  wliich  the  artist  had 
come  passenger,  mentioned  it  in  their  letters 
to  Mr.  Allen.  It  is  seldom  tliat  commercial 
affairs  are  mingled  with  those  of  art,  and 


i5i) 

it  was  only  from  the  Italian  shore  that  a 
mercantile  house  could  introduce  such  a  topic 
into  their  correspondence.  It  happened  that 
on  the  very  day  this  letter  reached  Mr.  Allen, 
Mr.  Hamilton  then  governor  of  Pennsylvania, 
and  the  principal  members  of  the  government, 
along  with  the  most  considerable  citizens  of 
Philadelphia,  were  dining  with  him.  After 
dinner,  Mr.  Allen  read  tlue  letter  to  the 
company,  aind  mentioned  the  amount  of  the 
sum  of  money  which  West  had  paid  into  his 
hands  at  the  period  of  his  departure  fi'om 
America,  adding  that  it  must  be  pretty  far 
reduced.  But,  said  he  with  warmth,  "  I 
regard  this  young  man  as  an  honour  to  the 
country,  and  as  he  is  the  first  that  America 
has  sent  to  cultivate  the  fine  arts,  he  shall 
not  be  frustrated  in  his  studies,  for  I  have 
resolved  to  write  to  my  correspondents  at 
Leghorn,  to  give  him,  from  myself,  whatever 
money  he  may  require."  Mr.  Hamilton  felt 
the  force  of  this  generous  declaration,  and 
said,  with  equal  animation,  "  I  think  exactly 


160 

as  you  do,  sir,  but  you  shall  not  have  all  the 
honour  of  it  to  yourself,  and,  therefore,  I  beg 
that  you  will  consider  me  as  joining  you 
in  the  responsibility  of  the  credit."  The 
consequence  of  this  was,  that  upon  West 
going,  previously  to  leaving  Florence,  to 
take  a  small  sum  of  about  ten  pounds  from 
the  bankers  to  whom  he  had  been  recom- 
mended by  Messrs.  Jackson  and  Rutherford, 
a  letter  was  brought  in,  wliile  he  was  waiting 
for  his  money,  and  the  gentleman  who  opened 
it,  said  to  him,  "  that  the  contents  of  the 
letter  would  probably  afford  him  unexpected 
pleasure,  as  it  instructed  them  to  give  him 
unUmited  credit."  A  more  splendid  instance 
of  Uberality  is  not  to  be  found  even  in  the 
records  of  Florence.  The  munificence  of 
the  Medici  was  excelled  by  that  of  the  ma- 
gistracy of  Philadelphia. 


CHAPTER  Vin. 


I.  The  result  of  the  artist's  experiment  to  discover  the  methods  by 
which  Titian  produced  his  splendid  colouring.  II.  He  returns  to 
Rome.  III.  Reflections  suggested,  by  inspectiug  the  Egyptian  obe- 
lisk. IV.  Considerations  of  the  author  on  the  same  subject;  and 
anecdote  of  .a  Mohawk  Indian  who  became  an  actor  at  New  York. 
V.  Anecdote  of  a  Scottish  fanatic  who  arrived  in  Rome  to  convert 
the  pope.  VI.  Sequel  of  the  adventure.  VII.  The  artist  prepares 
to  visit  England.  VIII.  Having  completed  his  St.  Jerome,  after 
Corregio's  famous  picture,  he  is  elected  an  honorary  member  of  the 
academy  of  Parma,  and  invited  to  court.  IX.  He  proceeds  by  the 
way  of  Genoa  towards  France.  X.  Reflections  on  the  state  of  Italy. 
XI.  Adventure  on  reaching  the  French  frontiers.  XII.  State  of 
taste  in  France. 


I.  From  Florence  the  artist  proceeded 
to  Bologna,  and  having  staid  some  time  there, 
carefully  inspecting  every  work  of  celebrity 
to  which  he  could  obtain  access,  he  went  on 
to  Venice,  visiting  in  liis  route  all  the  objects 
which  Mengs  had  recommended  to  his 
attention.  The  style  of  Titian,  which  in 
breadth  and  clearness  of  colouring  so  much 


163 

excels  that  of  almost  every  other  painter, 
was  the  peculiar  characteristic  of  the  Vene- 
tian school  which  interested  him  the  most, 
and  seemed  to  him,  at  first,  involved  in 
inexplicable  mystery.  He  was  never  satisfied 
with  the  explanations  which  the  ItaUan 
amateurs  attempted  to  give  him  of  what 
they  called  the  internal  fight  of  that  master's 
productions.  Repeated  experiments,  how- 
ever, enabled  him,  at  last,  to  make  the 
discovery  himself.  Indeed,  he  was  from 
the  first  persuaded  that  it  was  cliiefly  owing 
to  the  peculiar  genius  of  the  artist  himself, 
to  an  exquisite  deficacy  of  sight  which  enabled 
liim  to  perceive  the  most  approximate  tints, 
and  not  to  any  particular  dexterity  of  pencU- 
fing,  nor  to  any  superiority  in  the  materials 
of  his  colours.  This  notion  led  Mr.  West 
to  try  the  effect  of  painting  in  the  first  place 
y  with  the  pure  primary  colours,  and  softening 
them  afterwards  with  the  semi  tints;  and 
the  result  confirmed  him  in  the  notion  that 
such  was  probably  the  pecuhar  method  of 


163 

Titian.  But  although  this  idea  was  suggested 
by  liis  visits  to  the  collections  of  Venice,  he 
was  not  perfectly  satisfied  with  its  soundness 
as  a  rule,  till  many  years  after  his  arrival  in 
London,  and  many  unsuccessful  experiments. 

II.  Having  completed  liis  tour  to  the  most 
celebrated  repositories  of  art  in  Italy,  and 
enriched  his  mind,  and  improved  Ms  taste, 
by  the  perusal  rather  than  the  imitation  of 
their  best  pieces,  he  returned  to  Rome,  and 
applied  himself  to  a  minute  and  assiduous 
study  of  the  great  ornaments  of  that  capital, 
directing  his  principal  attention  to  the  works 
of  Raphael,  and  improving  his  knowledge  of 
the  ancient  costume  by  the  study  of  Cameos, 
in  which  he  was  assisted  by  Mr.  Wilcox, 
the  author  of  the  Roman  Conversations, — to 
whom  he  had  been  introduced  by  Mr.  Ro- 
binson, at  Mr.  Crespigne's,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  exhibition  of  the  portrait, — a  man  of 
singular  attainments  in  learning,  and  of  a 
serene  and  composed  dignity  of  mind  and 


164 

manners  that  rendered  him  more  remarkable 
to  strangers  than  even  liis  great  classical 
knowledge. 

III.  Of  all  the  monuments  of  ancient  art 
in  Rome,  the  obelisk  brought  from  Egypt,  in 
the  reign  of  Augustus,  interested  his  curiosity 
the  most,  and  even  for  a  time  affected  him 
as  much  as  those  which  so  Jigitated  him  by 
their  beauty.  The  hieroglyphics  appeared 
to  resemble  so  exactly  the  figures  in  the 
wampum  belts  of  the  Indians,  that  it  occurred 
to  him,  if  ever  the  mysteries  of  Egypt  were 
to  be  interpreted,  it  might  be  by  the  abori- 
gines of  America.  This  singular  notion  was 
not,  however,  the  mere  suggestion  of  fancy, 
but  the  effect  of  an  opinion  which  his  early 
friend  and  tutor  provost  Smith  conceived,  in 
consequence  of  attending  the  grand  meeting 
of  the  Indian  chiefs,  with  the  governors  of 
the  British  colonies,  held  at  East  town,  in 
Pennsylvania,  in  the  year  following  the 
disastrous  fate  of  Bradock's  army.      The 


155 

chiefs  had  requested  this  interview,  in  order 
to  state  to  the  officers  the  wrongs  and  injuries 
of  which  they  complained;  and  at  the  meeting 
they  evidently  read  the  reports  and  circum- 
stances of  their  grievances  from  the  hiero- 
glyphical  chronicle  of  the  wampum  belts, 
which  they  held  in  their  hands,  and  by  which, 
from  the  date  of  their  grand  aUiance  with 
William  Penn,  the  man  from  the  ocean,  as 
they  called  him,  they  minutely  related  all 
the  circumstances  in  which  they  conceived 
the  terms  and  spirit  of  the  treaty  had  been 
infringed  by  the  British,  defying  the  officers 
to  show  any  one  point  in  which  the  Indians 
had  swerved  from  tlieir  engagements.  It 
seemed  to  Dr.  Smith  that  such  a  minute 
traditionary  detail  of  facts  could  not  have 
been  preserved  witliout  come  contemporary 
record;  and  he,  therefore,  imagined,  that  the 
constant  reference  made  to  the  figures  on 
the  belts  was  a  proof  that  they  were  chronicles. 
This  notion  was  countenanced  by  another 
circumstance,  which  Mr.  West  had  himself 


166 

often  noticed.  The  course  of  some  of  the 
high  roads  through  Pennsylvania  Ues  along 
what  were  formerly  the  war  tracks  of  the 
Indians;  and  he  had  frequently  se^n  hiero- 
glypliics  engraved  on  the  trees  and  rocks. 
He  was  told,  that  they  were  inscriptions  left 
by  some  of  the  tribes  who  had  passed  that 
way,  in  order  to  apprise  then-  friends  of  the 
route  which  they  had  taken,  and  of  any 
other  matter  wliich  it  concerned  them  to 
know.  He  had  also  noticed  among  the  Indians 
who  annually  visited  Philadelphia,  that  there 
were  certain  old  chiefs  who  occasionally 
instructed  the  young  warriors  to  draw  red 
and  black  figures,  similar  to  those  which  are 
made  on  the  belts,  and  who  explained  their 
signification  with  great  emphasis,  while  the 
students  Mstened  to  the  recital  with  profound 
silence  and  attention.  It  was  not,  therefore, 
extraordinary,  that,  on  seeing  similar  figures 
on  the  Egyptian  trophy,  he  should  have 
thought  that  they  were  intended  to  transmit 
the  record  of  transactions  like  the  wampum 


167 

belts.  A  language  of  signs  derived  from 
natural  objects,  must  have  something  uni- 
versal in  its  very  nature;  for  the  qualities 
represented  by  the  emblematic  figure,  would, 
doubtless,  be  those  for  which  the  original  of 
the  figure  was  most  remarkable:  and,  there- 
fore, if  there  be  any  resemblance  between 
the  Egyptian  hieroglyphics  and  those  used 
by  the  American  Indians,  the  probability  is, 
that  there  is  also  some  similar  intrinsic 
meaning  in  their  signification.  But  the 
wampum  belts  are  probably  not  all  chronicles; 
there  is  reason  to  believe  that  some  of  them 
partake  of  the  nature  of  calendars,  by  which 
the  Indians  are  regulated  in  proceedings 
dependant  on  the  seasons;  and  that,  in  this 
respect,  they  answer  to  the  household  gods 
of  the  patriarchal  times,  which  are  supposed 
to  have  been  calendars,  and  the  figure  of 
each  an  emblem  of  some  portion  of  the  year, 
or  sign  of  the  zodiac.  It  would  be  foreign 
to  the  nature  of  this  work  to  investigate  the 
evidence  which  may  be  adduced    on  this 


168 

subject,  or  to  collect  those  various  end 
scattered  hints  which  have  given  rise  to  the 
opinion,  and  with  a  faint, '  but  not  fallacious 
ray,  have  penetrated  that  obscure  region  of 
ancient  history,  between  the  period  when 
the  devotion  of  mankind,  witlidrawn  from 
the  worship  of  the  Deity,  was  transferred  to 
the  adoration  of  the  stars,  and  prior  to  the 
still  greater  degradation  of  the  human  fa- 
culties when  altars  were  raised  to  idols. 

IV.  The  idea  of  the  Indians  being  in 
possession  of  hieroglypliical  writings,  is  cal- 
culated to  lead  us  to  form  a  very  different 
opinion  of  them  to  that  which  is  usually 
entertained  by  the  world.  Except  in  the 
mere  enjoyments  of  sense,  they  do  not 
appear  to  be  inferior  to  the  rest  of  mankind; 
and  their  notions  of  moral  dignity  are  ex- 
actly those  which  are  recommended  to  our 
imitation  by  the  literatm^e  of  all  antiquity. 
But  they  have  a  systematic  contempt  for 
wliatever  either  tends  to  increase  their 
ti'oubles,  to  eflcumber  the  freedom  of  their 


169 

motions,  or  to  fix  themto  settlediiabitations. 
In  their  unsheltered  nakedness,  they  have  a 
prouder  consciousness  of  their  importance 
in  the  scale  of  beings,  than  the  philosophers 
of  Europe,  with  all  their  multiplicity  of  sen- 
sual and  intellectual  gratifications,  to  supply 
which  so  many  of  the  human  race  are  de- 
graded from  their  natural  equality.  The 
Indian,  however,  is  not  deficient  in  mental 
enjoyments,  or  a  stranger  to  the  exercise  of 
the  dignified  faculties  of  our  common  nature. 
He  delivers  himself  on  suitable  occasions 
with  a  majesty  of  eloquence  that  would 
beggar  the  oratory  of  the  parliaments,  and 
the  pulpits'  of  Christendom;  and  his  poetry 
unfolds  the  loftiest  imagery  and  sentiment 
of  the  epic  and  the  hymn.  He  considers 
himself  as  the  lord  of  the  creation,  and 
regards  the  starry  heaven  as  his  canopy,  and 
the  everlasting  mountain  as  his  throne.  It 
would  be  absurd,  however,  to  assert  with 
Rousseau,  that  he  is,  therefore,  better  or 
happier  than  civilized  man;  but  it  would  be 

T 


170 

equally  so  to  deny  him  the  same  sense 
of  dignity,  the  same  feeling  of  dishonour, 
tlie  same  love  of  renown,  or  ascribe  to 
his  actions  in  war,  and  his  recreations  in 
peace,  baser  motives  than  to  the  luxurious 
waniors  and  statesmen  of  Europe.  Before 
Mr.  West  left  America,  an  attempt  was 
made  to  educate  three  young  Indians  at  New 
York;  and  their  progress,  notwthstanding 
that  they  still  retained  something  of  their 
original  wildness  of  character,  exceeded  the 
utmost  expectations  of  those  who  were  in- 
terested in  the  experiment.  Two  of  them, 
however,  in  the  end,  returned  to  their  tribe, 
but  they  were  rendered  miserable  by  the 
contempt  with  which  they  were  received;  and 
the  brother  of  the  one  who  remained  beliind, 
was  so  affected  with  their  degradation,  that 
he  came  to  the  city  determined  to  redeem 
his  brother  from  the  thraldom  of  civilization. 
On  liis  arrival,  he  found  he  had  become  an 
actor,  and  was  fast  rising  into  celebrity  on 
the  stage.     On  learning  tliis  cuxumstance. 


171 

the  resolute  Indian  went  to  the  theatre,  and 
seated  himself  in  the  pit.  The  moment  that 
his  brother  appeared,  he  leapt  upon  the 
stage,  and  drawing  his  knife,  threatened  to 
sacrifice  him  on  the  spot,  unless  he  would 
immediately  strip  himself  naked,  and  return 
with  him  to  their  home  in  the  woods.  He 
upbraided  him  with  the  meanness  of  his  dis- 
position, in  consenting  to  make  himself  a 
slave.  He  demanded  if  he  had  forgotten 
that  the  Great  Spirit  had  planted  the  Indian 
corn  for  their  use,  and  filled  the  forests  with 
game,  the  air  with  birds,  and  the  waters  with 
fish,  that  they  might  be  free.  He  represent- 
ed the  institutions  of  civilized  society  as 
calculated  to  make  him  dependent  on  the 
labour  of  others,  and  subject  to  every 
chance  that  might  interrupt  their  disposition 
to  supply  his  wants.  The  actor  obeyed  his 
brother,  and  returning  to  the  woods,  was 
never  seen  again  in  the  town.* 

*  The  following  extract  from  the  journal  of  a  friend, 
who  has  lately  travelled  through  the  principal  parts  of  th« 


173 

V.  It  may,  perhaps,  not  be  an  imperti- 
nent digression  to  contrast  this  singular 
occurrence   in   the   theatre   of   New  York, 

United  States,  will  probably  be  found  interesting,  as  it 
tends  to  throw  some  deg^ree  of  light  on  the  sentiments  of 
the  Indians,  of  which  the  little  that  is  known,  has  hitherto 
never  been  well  elucidated. 

"  One  of  my  fellow  passengers  was  a  settler  in  the  new 
state  of  Tenessee,  who  had  come  to  Charleston  with  hor- 
ses for  sale,  and  was  going  to  Baltimore  and  Philadelphia 
for  the  purpose  of  investing  his  money  in  an  assortment  of 
goods  suited  to  the  western  country.  The  ideas  of  civili- 
zed-and  savage  life  were  so  curiously  blended  in  this  man, 
that  his  conversation  afforded  me  considerable  amusement. 
Under  the  garb  and  appearance  of  a  methodist  preacher,  I 
found  him  a  hunter  and  a  warrior;  with  no  small  portion  of 
the  adventurous  spirit  proper  to  both  those  characters.  He 
had  served  as  a  militia-man  or  volunteer  under  general 
Jackson,  in  his  memorable  campaign  against  the  Creek 
Indians  in  1813;  and  he  related  to  me  some  interesting 
particulars  of  the  principal  and  final  action  which  decided 
the  fate  of  the  war.  The  Indians  had  posted  themselves  at 
a  place  called,  in  their  language,  Talapoosie,  and  by  the 
Americans,  the  Horse-shoe;  a  position  of  great  natural 
strength,  the  advantages  of  which  they  had  improved  to 
the  best  of  their  skill,  by  a  breast-work  seven  feet  high, 
extending  across  the  neck  of  land  which  formed  the  only 
approach  to  their  encampment.  This  seems  to  have  been 
viewed  by  the  Creeks  themselves  as  the  last  stand  of  their 
nation;  for,  contrary  to  the  usual  practice  of  the  Indians, 
they  made  every  preparation  for  defence,  but  none  for 
retreat.  Their  resistance  was  proportionably  desperate 
and  bloody.     For  several  hours  they  supported  a  continued 


173 

with  another  truly  European,  to  which  Mr. 
West  was  a  witness,  in  the  cathedral  of  St. 
Peter's.     Among  other  intelligent  acquain- 

fire  of  musketry  and  cannon  without  shrinking;  till  at 
length  the  American  general,  finding  that  he  had  lost  a 
great  number  of  men,  and  that  he  could  not  otherwise 
dislodge  the  enemy,  gave  orders  for  a  general  assault. 
The  breast-work  was  carried  by  storm;  and  the  Indians, 
broken  at  all  points,  and  surrounded  by  superior  numbers, 
were  nearly  all  put  to  the  sword.  Out  of  one  thousand 
warriors  who  composed  the  Creek  army,  scarcely  twenty 
made  their  escape.  A  body  of  Choctaw  Indians,  who  at- 
tended the  American  army  as  auxiliaries,  were  the  chief 
actors  in  this  massacre,  and  displayed  their  usual  barbarous 
ferocity.  It  affords  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  savage 
character,  that  the  whole  of  this  bloody  scene  passed  in 
the  most  perfect  silence  on  the  part  of  the  Indians:  there 
was  no  outcry,  no  supplication  for  mercy:  each  man  met 
his  fate  without  uttering  a  word,  singly  defending  himself 
to  the  last.  The  lives  of  the  women  and  children  were 
spared,  but  many  of  the  boys  were  killed  in  the  action, 
fighting  bravely  in  the  ranks  with  their  fathers  and  elder 
brothers.  My  Tenessee  friend  received  four  arrows  from 
the  bows  of  these  juvenile  warriors,  while  in  the  act  of 
mounting  the  breast-work. 

In  hearing  such  a  story,  it  is  impossible  not  to  be  touch- 
ed with  a  feeling  of  sympathy  for  a  high-minded  but  ex- 
piring people,  thus  gallantly  but  vainly  contending,  against 
an  overwhelming  force,  for  their  native  woods,  and  their 
name  as  a  nation;  or  to  refrain  from  lamenting  that  the 
settlement  of  the  new  world  cannot  be  accomplished  at  a 
less  price,  than  the  destruction  of  the  original  and  rightful 
proprietors  of  the  soil." 


174 

tances,  which  he  formed  in  Rome,  was  the 
abate  Grant,  one  of  the  adherents  of  that 
unfortunate  faniDy,  whom  the  baseness  of 
their  confidential  servants,  and  the  factions 
of  ambitious  demagogues,  deprived,  collec- 
tively, of  their  birth-right.  This  priest, 
though  a  firm  jacobite  in  principle,  was,  like 
many  others  of  the  same  political  sentiments, 
liberal  and  enliglitened,  refuting,  by  his 
conduct,  the  false  and  fraudulent  calumnies 
Avhich  have  been  so  long  alleged  against  the 
gallant  men  who  supported  the  cause  of  the 
ill-fated  Stuarts.  On  St.  Peter's  day,  when  the 
pope  in  person  performs  high  mass  in  the 
cathedral,  the  abate  offered  to  take  Mr. 
West  to  the  church,  as  he  could  place  him 
among  the  ecclesiastics,  in  an  advantageous 
situation  to  witness  the  ceremony.  Glad  of 
such  an  offer,  Mr.  West  willingly  accompanied 
him.  The  vast  edifice;  the  immense  multi- 
tude of  spectators;  the  sublimity  of  the 
music;  and  the  effect  of  the  pomp  addressed 
to  the  sight,  produced  on  the  mind  of  the 


175 

painter  feelings  scarcely  less  enthusiastic, 
than  those  which  the  devoutest  of  the 
worshippers  experienced,  or  the  craftiest 
inhabitant  of  the  Vatican  affected  to  feel.  At 
the  elevation  of  the  host,  and  as  he  was 
kneeling  beside  the  abate,  to  their  equal 
astonishment  he  heard  a  voice,  exclaiming 
behind  them  in  a  broad  Scotish  accent,  "  O 
Lord,  cast  not  the  church  down  on  them  for 
this  abomination!'*  The  surrounding  Italian 
priests,  not  understanding  what  the  enthusiast 
was  saying,  listened  with  great  comfort  to 
such  a  lively  manifestation  of  a  zeal,  which 
they  attributed  to  the  blessed  effects  of  the 
performance.  The  abate,  however,  with 
genuine  Scotish  partiality,  was  alarmed  for 
liis  countryman,  and  endeavoured  to  persuade 
him  to  hold  his  tongue  during  the  ceremony, 
as  he  ran  the  risk  of  being  torn  to  pieces  by 
the  mob. 

VI.  It  appeared  that  this  zealous  presby- 
terian,  without  understanding  a  word  of  any 


176 

civilized  language,  but  only  a  dialect  of  his 
own,  had  come  to  Rome  for  the  express 
purpose  of  attempting  to  convert  the  pope, 
as  the  shortest  way,  in  Ms  opinion,  of  putting 
an  end  to  the  reign  of  antichrist. — When 
mass  was  over,  the  abate,  anxious  to 
avert  from  liim  the  consequences  which  liis 
extravagance  would  undoubtedly  entail,  if  he 
continued  to  persevere  in  it,  entered"  into 
conversation  with  him.  It  appeared  he  had 
only  that  morning  anived  in  Babylon,  and 
being  unable  to  rest  until  he  had  seen  a 
gUmpse  of  the  gorgeous  harlot,  he  had  not 
then  provided  himself  with  lodgings.  The 
abate  conducted  him  to  a  house  where  he 
knew  he  would  be  carefully  attended;  and 
he  also  endeavoured  to  reason  with  him  on 
the  absurdity  of  his  self-assumed  mission, 
assuring  him  that  unless  he  desisted,  and 
behaved  wdth  circumspection,  he  would 
inevitably  be  seized  by  the  inquisition. 
But  the  prospect  of  martyrdom  augmented 
his  zeal;  and   the  representations    of  the 


477 

benevolent  catholic  only  stimulated  his 
enterprise;  so  that  in  the  course  of  a  few 
days,  much  to  Ms  own  exceeding  great  joy, 
and  with  many  comfortable  salutations  of  the 
spirit,  he  was  seized  by  the  inquisition,  and 
lodged  in  a  dungeon.  On  hearing  this,  the 
abate  applied  to  king  James  in  his  behalf,  and 
by  his  majesty's  influence  he  was  released, 
and  sent  to  the  British  consul  at  Leghorn,  on 
condition  of  being  immediately  conveyed  to 
his  friends  in  Scotland.  It  happened,  how- 
ever, that  no  vessel  was  then  ready  to  sail, 
and  the  taste  of  persecution  partaking  more 
of  the  reUsh  of  adventure  than  the  pungency 
of  suffering,  the  missionary  was  not  to  be  so 
easily  frustrated  in  his  meritorious  design; 
and,  therefore,  he  took  the  first  opportunity 
of  stealing  silently  back  to  Rome,  where  he 
was  again  arrested  and  confined.  By  this 
time  the  affair  had  made  some  noise,  and  it 
was  universally  thought  by  all  the  English 
travellers,  that  the  best  way  of  treating  the 
ridicidous  madman,  was  to  allow  him  to 


478 

remain  some  time  in  solitary  confinement 
in  the  dungeons  of  the  inquisition.  When 
he  had  been  imprisoned  about  thi'ee  months, 
he  was  again  hberated,  sent  to  Leghorn,  and 
embarked  for  England,  radically  cured  of  his 
inclination  to  convert  the  pope,  but  still 
believing  that  the  punishment  which  he  had 
suffered  for  his  folly,  woidd  be  recorded  as  a 
trial  which  he  had  endured  in  the  service  of 
the  faith. 

VII.  In  the  mean  time,  West  was  carefully 
furnishing  his  mind  by  an  attentive  study  of 
the  costume  of  antiquity,  and  the  beauties 
of  the  great  works  of  modern  genius.  In 
doing  this,  he  regarded  Rome  only  as  an 
university,  in  which  he  should  graduate;  and, 
as  a  thesis  preparatory  to  taking  his  degree 
among  the  students,  he  painted  a  picture  of 
Cimon  and  Iphigenia,  and,  subsequently, 
another  of  Angehca  and  Madoro.  The 
applause  which  they  received  justified  the 
opinion  which  Mengs  had  so  early  expressed 


179 

of  his  talent,  and  certainly  answered  every 
object  for  which  they  were  composed.  He 
was  honoured,  in  consequence,  with  the 
marks  of  academical  approbation,  usually 
bestowed  on  fortunate  artists.  He  then 
proposed  to  return  to  America,  with  a  view 
to  cultivate  in  his  native  country  that  profes- 
sion in  which  he  had  already  acquired  so 
much  celebrity.  At  this  j  uncture,  he  received 
a  letter  from  his  father,  advising  him,  as 
peace  had  been  concluded  between  France 
and  England,  to  go  home  for  a  short  time 
before  coming  to  America;  for  the  mother 
country  was  at  that  period  still  regarded  as 
the  home  of  her  American  offspring.  The 
advice  of  his  father  was  in  unison  with  his 
own  wishes,  and  he  mentioned  his  intention 
to  Mr.  Wilcox.  That  gentleman,  conceiving 
that  he  spoke  of  ximerica  as  his  home, 
expressed  himself  with  grief  and  surprise  at 
a  determination  so  different  from  what  he 
had  expected;,  but,  upon  being  informed  of 
the  ambiguity  in  the  phrase,  he  exclaimed 


180 

that  he  could  hardly  have  resolved,  on 
quitting  Italy,  more  opportunely,  for  Dr. 
Patoune,  a  Scotish  gentleman,  of  considerable 
learning,  and  some  taste  in  painting,  was 
then  returning  homeward,  and  waiting  at  that 
time  in  Rome,  until  he  should  be  able  to 
meet  with  a  companion.  It  was  therefore 
agreed  that  West  should  be  introduced  to 
him;  and  it  was  soon  after  arranged  that  the 
doctor  shoidd  proceed  to  Florence,  while 
the  artist  went  to  take  leave  ofhisfiiends  at 
Leghorn,  to  express  to  them  his  gratitude 
for  the  advantages  he  had  derived  from  their 
constant  and  extraordinary  kindness,  which 
he  estimated  so  highly,  that  he  could  not 
think  of  leaving  Italy  without  performing 
this  pleasing  and  honourable  pilgrimage. 
It  was  also  agreed  between  him  and  his 
companion,  that  the  doctor  should  stop  a 
shoii:  time  at  Parma,  until  West  should  have 
completed  a  copy  of  the  St.  Jerome  of  Cor- 
regio,  which  he  had  begun  during  his  visit 
to  that  city  with  Mr.  Matthews. 


181 

VIII.  During  their  stay  at  Parma,  the 
academy  elected  Mr.  West  a  member,  an 
honour  which  the  academies  of  Florence 
and  Bologna  had  previously  conferred  on 
him;  and  it  was  mentioned  to  the  prince 
that  a  young  American  had  made  a  copy  of 
the  St.  Jerome  of  Corregio,  in  a  style  of 
excellence  such  as  the  oldest  academicians 
had  not  witnessed.  The  prince  expressed 
a  wish  to  see  this  extraordinary  artist,  par- 
ticularly when  he  heard,  that  he  was  from 
Pennsylvania,  and  a  quaker.  Mr.  West  was, 
in  consequence,  informed  that  a  visit  from 
him  would  be  acceptable  at  court;  and  it 
was  arranged  that  he  should  be  introduced 
to  liis  highness  by  the  chief  minister.  Mr. 
West  thought  that,  in  a  matter  of  this  kind, 
he  should  regulate  his  behaviour  by  what  he 
understood  to  be  the  practice  in  the  court 
of  London;  and,  accordingly,  to  the  aston- 
ishment of  the  whole  of  the  courtiers,  he 
kept  his  hat  on  during  tlie  audience.  This, 
however,   instead  of  offending  the  prince, 


18^ 

was  observed  vnth  evident  pleasure,  and 
made  his  reception  more  particidar  and 
distinguished;  for  his  highness  had  heard 
of  the  pecuhar  simplicity  of  the  quakers, 
and  of  the  singidarly  christian  conduct  and 
principles  of  William  Penn. 

IX.  From  Parma  he  proceeded  to  Genoa, 
and  thence  to  Turin.  Considering  this  city 
as  the  last  stage  of  his  professional  observa- 
tions in  Italy,  his  mind  unconsciously  took 
a  retrospective  \iew  of  the  different  objects 
he  had  seen,  and  the  knowledge  wliich  he 
had  acquired  since  his  departure  from 
America.  Although  his  art  was  always 
uppermost  in  his  thoughts,  and  although  he 
could  not  reflect  on  the  course  of  his  ob- 
servations without  pleasure  and  hope,  he 
was  often  led  to  advert  to  the  lamentable 
state  into  which  every  tiling,  as  well  as  art, 
had  fallen  in  Italy,  in  consequence  of  the 
general  theocratical  despotism  which  over- 
spread the  whole  country,  like  an  imwhole- 


183 

some  vapour,  and  of  those  minute  subdi- 
visions of  territory,  in  which  political  tyran- 
nv  exercised  its  baleful  influence  even  where 
the  ecclesiastical  oppression  seemed  dispo- 
sed to  spare.       He  saw,  in  the  infamous 
establishment  of   the  cicisbeo,    the   settled 
effect  of  that  general  disposition  to  palliate 
vice,  which  is  the  first  symptom  of  decay  in 
nations;    and  he  was  convinced  that,  before 
vice  could  be  thus  exalted  into  custom,  there 
must  exist  in  the  community  which  would 
tolerate  sucli  an  institution,  a  disregard  of 
all  those  obUgations  which  it  is  the  pride  of 
virtue  to  incur,  and  the  object  of  law  to 
preserve.      It   seemed  to   liim  that   every 
thing  in  Italy  was  in  a  state  of  disease;  and 
that  the  moral  energy  was  subsiding,  as  the 
vital  flame  diminishes  from  the  progress  of 
old  age.    For  although  the  forms  and  graces 
of  the  human  character  were  often  seen  in 
all  their  genume  dignity  among  the  common 
people,    still  even    the  general  population 
seemed  to  be  defective  in  that  detestation 


184 

of  vice  found  in  all  countries  in  a  health- 
ful state  of  morals,  and  which  is  often 
strongest  among  the  lowest  of  the  vulgar, 
especially  in  what  respects  the  conduct  of 
the  great.  He  thought  that  the  commonalty 
of  Italy  had  lost  the  tact  by  which  the  good 
and  evil  of  actions  are  discriminated;  and 
that,  whatever  was  good  in  their  disposition, 
^  was  constitutional,  and  unconnected  with 
any  principle  of  religion,  or  sense  of  right. 
In  the  papal  states,  this  appeared  to  be  par- 
ticularly the  case.  All  the  creative  powers 
of  the  mind  seemed  there  to  be  extinct. 
The  countiy  was  covered  with  ruins,  and 
the  human  character  was  in  ashes.  Some- 
times, indeed,  a  few  embers  of  intellect  were 
seen  among  the  clergy;  but  the  brightness 
of  their  scintillation  was  owing  to  the  black- 
ness of  death,  with  which  they  were  con- 
trasted. The  splendour  of  the  nobiUty 
struck  him  only  as  a  more  conspicuous 
poverty  than  the  beggary  of  the  common 
people;    and    the    perfect    contempt  with 


185 

which  they  treated  the  feeUngs  of  their 
dependants,  seemed  to  him  scarcely  less 
despicable  than  the  apathy  with  which  it 
was  endured.  The  innumerable  examples 
of  the  effects  of  this  moral  paralysis  to 
which  he  was  a  witness  on  his  arrival  in 
Rome,  filled  him  for  some  time  with  indes- 
cribable anxiety,  and  all  his  veneration  for 
the  Roman  majesty  was  lost  in  reflections 
on  the  offences  which  mankind  may  be 
brought  to  commit  on  one  another.  But  at 
Genoa,  Leghorn,  and  Venice,  the  ItaUans 
were  seen  to  less  disadvantage.  Commerce, 
by  diffusing  opulence,  and  interweaving  the 
interests  of  all  classes,  preserved  in  those 
cities  some  community  of  feeling,  which 
was  manifested  in  an  interchange  of  respect 
and  consideration  between  the  higher  and 
the  lower  orders;  and  Lucca  he  thought 
afforded  a  perfect  exception  to  the  general 
degeneracy  of  the  country.  The  inliabitants 
of  that  Uttle  republic  presented  the  finest  view 
of  human  nature  that  he  had  ever  witnessed. 
With  the  manliness  of  the  British  character 

A  a 


186 

they  appeared  to  blend  the  suavity  of  the 
Italian  mannei-s;  and  their  private  morals 
were  not  inferior  to  the  celebrity  of  their 
pubUe  virtues.  So  true  it  is,  that  man,  under 
the  pohce  and  vigilance  of  despotism,  be- 
comes more  and  more  vicious;  wliile,  in 
proportion  to  the  extension  of  his  freedom, 
is  the  vigour  of  Ms  private  \ii1:ue.  When 
deprived  of  the  right  of  exercising  his  own 
judgment,  he  feels,  as  it  were,  his  moral 
responsibility  at  an  end,  and  naturally  blames 
the  system  by  which  he  is  oppressed,  for  the 
crimes  which  his  own  um-esisted  passions 
instigate  him  to  commit.  To  an  EngUsh- 
man  the  remembrance  of  a  journey  in  Italy 
is  however  often  more  deUghtful  than  that 
of  any  other  country,  for  no  where  else  is 
his  arrogance  more  patiently  endured,  his 
eccentricities  more  humorously  indulged, 
nor  tlie  generosity  of  his  character  more 
publicly  acknowledged. 

X.  In  coming  from  Italy  into  France,  Mr. 
West  was  particularly  struck  with  the  pic- 


187 

turesqiie  difference  in  the  character  of  the 
peasantry  of  the  two  countries;  and  while 
he  thought,  as  an  artist,  that  to  give  appro- 
priate effect  to  a  national  landscape,  it  would 
not  only  be  necessary  to  introduce  figures 
in  the  costume  of  the  country;  but  in  em- 
ployments and  recreations  no  less  national, 
he  was  sensible  of  the  truth  of  a  remark 
which  occurs  to  almost  every  traveller,  that 
there  are  different  races  of  the  human  spe- 
cies, and  that  the    nature  of  the  dog  and 
horse  do  not  vary  more  in  different  climates 
than  man  himself     In  making  the  observa- 
tion, he  was  not,  however,  disposed  to  agree 
with  the  continental  philosophers,  that  this 
difference,  arising  from  climate,  at  all  nar- 
rowed the  powers  of  the  mind,   though  it 
influenced  the  choice  of  objects  of  taste. 
For  whatever  tends  to  make  the  mind  more  / 
famihar  with  one  class  of  agreeable  sensa- 
tions than  another,  will,  undoubtedly,  con- 
tribute to  form  the  cause  of  that  preference 
for  particular  qualities  in  objects  by  which 
the  characteristics  of  the  taste  of  different 


188 

nations  is  discriminated.  Although,  of  all 
the  general  circumstances  which  modify  the 
opinions  of  mankind,  climate  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  permanent,  it  does  not,  therefore^  follow 
that,  because  the  climate  of  France  or  Italy 
induces  the  inhabitants  to  prefer,  in  works  of 
art,  certain  qualities  of  the  excellence  of 
which  the  people  of  England  are  not  so 
sensible,  the  climate  of  Great  Britain  does 
not,  in  like  manner,  lead  the  inhabitants  to 
discover  other  qualities  equally  valuable  as 
sources  of  enjoyment.  Thus,  in  sculpture 
for  example,  it  would  seem  that  in  naked 
figures  the  inhabitants  of  a  cold  climate  can 
never  hope  to  attain  that  degree  of  eminence 
w^hich  we  see  exemplified  in  the  productions 
of  the  Grecian  and  Italian  sculptors;  not 
that  the  artists  may  not  execute  as  well,  but 
because  they  will  not  so  readily  find  models; 
jDr  what  is  perhaps  more  to  the  point,  they 
wiU  not  find  a  taste  so  capable  of  appreciating 
the  merits  of  their  performances.  In  Italy 
the  eye  is  familiar  with  the  human  form,  in 
a  state  of  almost  complete  nudity;  and  the 


189 

beauty  of  muscular  Expression,  and  of  the 
osteological  proportions  of  man,  is  there 
as  well  known  as  that  of  the  features  and 
complexion  of  his  countenance;  but  the  same 
degree  of  nakedness  could  not  be  endured 
in  the  climate  of  England,  for  it  is  associated 
with  sentiments  of  modesty  and  shame, 
which  render  even  the  accidental  innocent 
exposure  of  so  much  of  the  body  offensive 
to  the  feeUngs  of  decorum.  It  is  not,  there- 
fore,  just  to  allege,  that,  because  the  Italians 
are  a  calm,  persuasive,  and  pensive  people, 
and  the  French  all  stir,  talk,  and  inconstancy, 
they  are  respectively  actuated  by  different 
moral  causes.  It  will  not  be  asserted  that,- 
though  the  sources  of  tlieir  taste  in  art  spring 
from  different  qualities  in  the  same  common 
objects,  any  innate  incapacity  for  excellence 
in  the  fine  arts,  is  induced  by  the  Enghsh 
climate,  merely  because  that  climate  has  the 
effect  of  producing  a  different  moral  tempe- 
rament among  the  inhabitants. 


190 

XI.  On  the  morning  after  arriving  at  tlic 
first  frontier  town,  in  coming  from  Savoy 
into  France,  and  while  breakfast  was  prepar- 
ing, Mr.  West  and  his  companion  heard  the 
noise  of  a  crowd  assembled  in  the  yard  of 
the  inn.  The  doctor  rose  and  went  to  the 
Avindow  to  inquire  the  occasion:  immediately 
on  his  appearance,  the  mob  became  turbulent, 
and  seemed  to  menace  him  with  some 
outrage.  The  peace  of  17^3  had  been  but 
lately  concluded,  and  without  ha\ing  any 
other  cause  for  the  thought,  it  occurred  to 
the  travellers  that  the  tm^bulence  must  have 
originated  in  some  political  occurrence,  and 
they  hastily  summoned  the  landlord,  who 
informed  them,  "that  the  people  had,  indeed, 
assembled  in  a  tumultuous  manner  round 
the  inn  on  hearing  that  two  Englishmen  were 
in  the  house,  but  that  they  might  make 
themselves  easy,  as  he  had  sent  to  inform 
the  magistrates  of  the  riot."  Soon  after,  one 
of  the  magistrates  arrived,  and  on  being 
introduced  by  the  landlord  to  the  travellers, 
expressed  himself  to  the  following  effect: 


191 

"  I  am  sorry  that  this  occurrence  should  have 
happened,  because  had  I  known  in  time,  I 
should,  on  hearing  that  you  were  Englishmen, 
have  come  with  the  other  magistrates  to 
express  to  you  the  sentiments  of  respect 
which  we  feel  towards  your  illustrious  nation; 
but,  since  it  has  not  been  in  our  power  to 
give  you  that  testimony  of  our  esteem;  on 
the  contrary,  since  we  are  necessitated 
by  our  duty  to  protect  you,  I  assure  you 
that  I  feel  exceedingly  mortified.  I  trust, 
however,  that  you  will  suffer  no  inconve- 
nience, for  the  people  are  dispersing,  and 
you  will  be  able  to  leave  the  town  in  safety!" 
"  This  place,"  he  continued,  "is  a  manufac- 
turing town,  which  has  been  almost  ruined 
by  the  war.  Our  goods  went  to  the  ocean 
from  Marseilles  and  Toulon;  but  the  vigilance 
of  your  fleets  ruined  our  trade,  and  these 
poor  people,  who  have  felt  the  consequence, 
considered  not  the  real  cause  of  their  distress. 
However,  although  the  populace  do  not  look 
beyond  the  effects  which  immediately  press 
upon  themselves,  there  are  many  among  us 


192 

well  acquainted  with  the  fountain-head  of 
the  misfortunes  which  afflict  France,  and 
who  know  that  it  is  less  to  you  than 
to  ourselves  that  we  ought  to  ascribe  the 
disgraces  of  the  late  war.  You  had  a  man 
at  the  head  of  your  government  (alluding  to 
the  first  lord  Chatham),  and  your  counsellor 
are  men.  But  it  is  the  curse  of  France  that 
she  is  ruled  by  one,  who  is,  in  fact,  but  the 
agent  and  organ  of  valets  and  strumpets. 
The  coui-t  of  France  is  no  longer  the  focus 
of  the  gi'eat  men  of  the  country,  but  a  band 
of  profligates  that  have  driven  away,  the 
gi'eat.  This  state  of  things,  however,  cannot 
last  long,  the  reign  of  the  Pompadours  must 
draw  to  an  end,  and  Frenchmen  will  one 
day  take  a  temble  revenge  for  the  insults 
wliich  they  suffer  in  being  regarded  only  as 
the  materials  of  those  who  pander  to  the 
prodigality  of  the  court."  This  singular 
address,  made  in  the  year  1763,  requires  no 
comment;  but  it  is  a  curious  liistorical  instance 
of  the  commencement  of  that  moral  re-action 
to  oppression  which  subsequently  has  so 


193 

folly  realized  the  prediction  of  tlie  magistrate, 
and  which,  in  its  violence,  has  done  so  much 
mischief,  and  occasioned  so  many  misfortunes 
to  Europe. 

XII.  The  travellers  remained  no  longer 
in  Paris  than  was  necessary  to  inspect  the 
principal  works  of  the  French  artists,  and 
the  royal  collections.  Mr.  West,  however, 
continued  long  enough  to  be  satisfied,  that 
the  true  feeling  for  the  fine  arts  did  not 
exist  among  the  French  to  that  degree  wliich 
he  had  observed  in  Italy.  On  the  contrary, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  there  was  an  inherent 
affectation  in  the  general  style  of  art  among 
them,  which  demonstrated,  not  only  a  defi- 
ciency of  native  sensibiUty,  but  an  anxious 
endeavour  to  conceal  that  defect.  The 
characteristics  of  the  French  school,  and  they 
have  not  yet  been  redeemed  by  the  intro- 
duction of  any  better  manner,  might,  to  a 
cursory  observer,  appear  to  have  arisen  from 
a  corrupted  taste,  while,  in  fact,  they  are  the 
consequences  only  of  that  inordinate  national 

Bb 


194 

vanity,  which  in  so  many  different  ways,  has 
retarded  the  prosperity  of  the  world.  In 
the  opinion  of  a  Ei^enchman,  there  is  a  quality 
of  excellence  in  every  thing  belonging  to 
France,  merely  because  it  is  French,  which 
gives  at  all  times  a  certain  degree  of  supe- 
riority to  the  actions  and  productions  of  his 
countrymen;  and  this  delusive  notion  has 
infested  not  only  the  Uterature  and  the 
politics  of  the  nation,  but  also  the  principles 
of  art,  to  such  a  deep  and  inveterate  extent, 
that  the  moraUty  of  painting  is  not  yet  either 
felt  or  understood  in  that  country.  In  the 
mechanical  execution,  in  dramng,  and  in  the 
arrangement  of  tlie  parts,  great  French 
painters  are  probably  equal  to  the  Itahans; 
but  in  producing  any  other  sentiment  in  the 
spectator  than  that  of  admiration  at  their 
mechanical  skill,  they  are  greatly  behind  the 
English.  Painting  has  much  of  a  common 
character  Mith  dramatic  literature,  and  the 
very  best  pictures  of  the  French  artists  have 
the  same  kind  of  resemblance  to  the  proba- 
bility of  nature,  that  the  tragedies  of  their 


195 

great  dramatic  authors  have  to  the  characters 
and  actions  of  men.     But  in  rejecting  the 
pretensions  of  the  French  to    superiority 
either  in  the  one  species  of  art  or  in  the 
other,  the  rejection  ought  not  to  be  extended 
too  far.     They  are  wrong  in  their  theory; 
but  their  practice  so  admirably  accords  with 
it,  that  it  must  be  allowed,  were  it  possible 
for  a  people  so  enchanted  by  self-conceit,  to 
discover  that  the  true  subjects  of  art  exist 
only  in  nature,they  evince  a  capacity  sufficient 
to  enable  them  to  acquire  the  pre-eminence 
which  they  unfortunately  believe  they  have 
already  attained.     But  these  opinions,  with 
respect  to  the  peculiarities  of  the  French 
taste,  though  deduced  from  incidental  remarks 
in  conversations  with  Mr.  West,  must  not 
be  considered  as  his.     The  respect  which 
he  has  always  entertained  towards  the  different 
members  of  his  own  profession,  never  allows 
him  to  express  himself  in  any  terms  that 
might  possibly  be  construed  by  malice  or 
by  ignorance,  to  imply  any  thing  derogatory 
to  a  class  which  he  naturally  considers  among 


^  196 

the  teachers  of  mankind.  He  may  think, 
indeed  he  has  expressed  as  much,  that  the 
style  of  the  French  aiHsts  is  not  the  most 
perspicuous;  and  that  it  is,  if  the  expression 
may  be  allowed,  more  rhetorical  than  elo- 
quent; but  still  he  regards  them  as  having 
done  honour  to  their  country,  and,  in 
furnishing  objects  of  innocent  interest  to  the 
minds  of  mankind,  as  having  withdrawn  so 
far  the  inclinations  of  the  heart  from  mere 
sensual  objects.  The  true  use  of  painting, 
he  early  thought,  must  reside  in  assisting  the 
reason  to  arrive  at  correct  moral  inferences, 
by  furnishing  a  probable  view  of  the  effects  of 
motives  and  of  passions;  and  to  the  enforce- 
ment of  this  great  argument  his  long  life  has 
been  devoted,  whether  with  complete  success 
it  would  be  presumptuous  in  any  contem- 
porary to  determine,  and  injudicious  in  the 
author  of  these  memou's  to  assert. 

THE  END. 


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